


of ghosts, ice cream, and moving along

by cosmicwoosan



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkwardness, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Suicidal Thoughts, Mutual Pining, Past Character Death, Social Anxiety, Song Mingi is Whipped, Writing Poetry, hongjoong is the ghost, inaccurate depictions of spirituality, mingi sees ghosts, yunho is sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicwoosan/pseuds/cosmicwoosan
Summary: Mingi, shy, awkward, and a closeted medium, goes to the grocery store to treat himself to some ice cream, totally not expecting to see a tall, handsome, puppy-resembling employee being followed around by a relatively short dead guy with a mullet.in which Mingi helps Yunho move along after the death of his best friend, and maybe they fall in love too.
Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, side Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 53
Kudos: 490





	1. reach out

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to another new fic ;) i'll probably be updating this one along with seeking arcadia, alternating between the two. more angst. this one's a little more lighthearted, though.
> 
> i will say that i have not experienced a death of a loved one, so this may not reflect grief "correctly," but i'm going to try my best.

When Mingi groans into his textbook for the fifth time in one night, San tells him to get laid. He lifts his head from the pages, scowling at his dimple-faced roommate who only seems to be enjoying his suffering as he stands in the doorway to his room with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You’re stressed, and sex is really good for that,” San says, adding a wink.

Mingi’s frown deepens and he groans again, leaning back into his chair and throwing his head back. “Why is statistics so fucking boring?”

“Can’t argue with you on that one,” San agrees, scoffing.

“I feel like my eyes are permanently crossed,” Mingi says, rubbing them. “Like, it’s easy, but so fucking boring and if I don’t get something to eat I’m going to actually fucking die.”

San can’t help but laugh. “Dude, let’s go then. You need food, and you know we have jack shit in this apartment. What do you want? I’ll pay.”

Mingi sits up at the mention of food. “You sure?”

“Yeah, you’re already suffering enough. No need to make you suffer more by making you pay,” San jokes. “What are you in the mood for?”

Mingi purses his lips, thinking. “Ice cream?”

“Actual food,” San clarifies.

“Ice cream _is_ actual food.”

“Something that will actually give you sustenance instead of empty calories and sugar.”

“Life is too short to not enjoy delicious junk food comprised of empty calories and sugar.”

San’s eyes narrow. “Touché. But if we’re going to get shit to eat, you’re coming with me.”

Mingi groans again, his dry eyes squeezing shut. “I don’t wanna.”

“Dude, you want ice cream and other shit? I’m not gonna get it for you; you come with me to get it.”

Mingi sighs, tossing his pencil back down on his desk. It’s not that he _can’t_ go out; he just doesn’t _want_ to. He knows San has good intentions when he tries to convince him to get out more, whether it be to a club (which has never, ever happened and Mingi is convinced that it never will) or, in this case, to the fucking _grocery store._ Bottom line is, if Mingi doesn’t _have_ to go out, he won’t. He just doesn’t like going out. It’s not that he doesn’t like people.

Well.

The thing is, Mingi _does_ like people. He just doesn’t like what he sees.

It took Mingi a good three weeks to banish the spirit in their apartment. San actually started to get headaches from the amount of herbs he was burning at ungodly hours of the night. There were many nights where San told Mingi to just leave it alone, let it haunt them, but Mingi _insisted_ that this spirit was no good. It didn’t even have a _form._ Shadow people are some of the worst types of spirits (demons) to deal with, and Mingi was _not_ going to tolerate one in their apartment.

When Mingi goes out, he sees and feels plenty of things. Spirits tend to be tamer in public settings, but it’s always unsettling. He’s always jittery whenever he goes out, not out of fear, but out of a physical, instinctual reaction to the spirit realm. He’s on edge because he sees things that nobody else around him sees.

He’s become used to the fact, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

San knows. It took him a little while to believe Mingi, until he asked Mingi to prove it, and when Mingi was able to contact his deceased grandmother, San burst into tears and told Mingi that he would never doubt him again.

(There have been many times where San doubted Mingi; it just never had to do with Mingi’s special ability).

The thing San doesn’t understand is how nerve-wracking going out is. Where all Mingi can hear are the whispers of the dead and passed, where all he can feel are the remnants of what used to be. It takes a lot of effort on Mingi’s part to block that shit out. He can do it, but he’s already exhausted from homework, and doesn’t need to be even _more_ exhausted.

But if Mingi is being honest, he really wishes he could go out without having to be so apprehensive. Being cooped up inside all day isn’t what he wants. He wants to go out and explore. Buy unnecessary shit. Study in places that aren’t his small apartment bedroom. Sadly, however, he doesn’t have unlimited amounts of incense and sage to dispel all the shit he sees, feels, and hears.

Hell, he even orders his incense and sage online.

He goes to class and goes back home. Other than that, he doesn’t really go out.

“Please, Mingi?” San asks, his tone softening. He even pouts.

Mingi knows that the closest grocery store is ten minutes away. He can make it that far. If San knows what he wants beforehand and doesn’t peruse every single shelf he passes by, he can spend minimal time there and probably won’t have to deal with any annoying spirits. Plus, his spine feels like it could use a break from the sitting.

In the end, Mingi obliges. San’s entire face lights up as he grabs Mingi by the hand, bounding towards the front door of their apartment, barely allowing Mingi enough time to put on his coat and shoes. Mingi seriously doesn’t know why San is so excited; it’s a grocery store for heaven’s sake. But Mingi loves seeing San smile, and if that means he has to perk up and deal with the spirit realm, he will.

-

Mingi is pleasantly surprised when he walks in the store and all he can hear are the voices of actual people. Maybe his senses have gone a bit numb from never really going out. Maybe there aren’t that many spirits lurking around. He’s never been to this particular store, so it’s not like he knows if there are any, but if there are, he’s certain he’ll sense them eventually.

“I’m gonna get some ingredients for this awesome chicken recipe I found online. Can you believe it, I actually want to try cooking for once,” San says. “If you need anything or can’t put up with the spooky shit, just call or text me and I’ll come running, okay?”

Mingi nods, and San smiles one more time before grabbing a cart and wheeling it off in the direction of the butcher. It’s endearing the way San rides the cart like he’s a little kid. He definitely has the mentality of one, but Mingi’s not complaining.

Right. Ice cream. That’s what he came here for.

He wonders if his apprehension is noticeable, if he walks like there’s a stick up his ass or if his discomfort appears in his facial expressions. He doesn’t really pay attention. As he wanders towards the freezer section, the tingling sensations on the tips of his ears begin.

He’s not hearing any voices, but there’s definitely something within range. His eyes gaze upon everything around him as he shoves his hands in his pockets, the room getting colder, and not just from the freezers.

Seeing full, physical apparitions is a rare occasion. Mingi has only come across one in his whole lifetime, one that he could physically see and even speak to, but that spirit ended up passing on. It was a gentle old woman who resided within a local café, who Mingi discovered was the owner’s grandmother. She told Mingi that her she was watching over her granddaughter, whose belly was swollen with new life. The café had been her old home, and she swore to herself and her family that she would not rest until she was sure her family was all set.

When the baby was born, Mingi stopped seeing her. Though it was sad to know she’d passed on, Mingi thought it was also a beautiful thing, seeing how life comes from life. He considered telling the owner about her grandmother, but he figured it would be best forgotten. After all, sometimes, humans have a knack for just _knowing_ things.

Mingi is sure to this day that the owner of that café knew her grandmother was always watching.

That being said, when Mingi does see a physical apparition, it’s hard to tell. At first glance, they look and seem like a living, breathing person. In fact, Mingi is pretty sure he’s seen plenty, but has just never noticed it. But this time around, Mingi’s itching skin is telling him that there’s a strong presence somewhere in the store, and he can’t tell if it’s good or bad. He won’t be able to until he sees it.

He approaches one of the freezer doors, home to his favorite brand of ice cream. There’s an employee off to his right who’s stocking more flavors of it, dressed in uniform. His hair is bleached blond, and he’s just about as tall as Mingi. Mingi smirks to himself in amusement; he doesn’t usually see people as tall as him, but then again, he doesn’t usually _see_ people because he doesn’t really go out.

It just so happens that the flavor he desires is right in the way of the employee. He eyes the pint, frowning as he realizes that he has to ask the employee to move. He _could_ settle for another flavor instead of having to interact with someone, but he’s already come this far. What could go wrong?

Mingi turns to the employee, the tall worker now completely in his vision. “Excuse me—”

There are a few things that go through Mingi’s head as soon as he gets good glimpse of the worker. One, he’s _very_ handsome. Though his hair is as dead as the spirits Mingi sees, his eyes are wide and wonderous, hidden behind a fashionable pair of glasses. He might even be just a smidge taller than Mingi, and for some reason, he makes Mingi think of a puppy.

Two, there’s someone standing right next to him, a smaller man with a fucking _mullet_ of all hairstyles, colored an ash brown, and Mingi swears the chilly blast from the freezer gets stronger.

Mingi’s eyes widen as he locks eyes with mullet man. “Yes?” the employee replies. “Oh, sorry, am I in your way?”

Mullet man looks at Mingi with a confused expression while Mingi’s eyes are torn between staring at the handsome employee and the man with a tragic haircut because Mingi is pretty damn sure that mullet man wasn’t there before.

Oh fuck no.

“Oh, uh, no, it’s okay! Just, uh, want to get some of the triple cookie blast. Ha, it’s my favorite flavor, and, um, just gotta sneak past you if that’s alright.”

Mingi wants to die.

“Oh, of course. Sorry about that.” The worker steps off to the side, taking the boxes with him. Mullet man follows the same step.

“N-no, it’s okay,” Mingi stammers, though he’s already reaching for the triple cookie blast, plucking it off the shelf and retreating just as quickly. “Sorry to bother you.”

The employee just chuckles, and Mingi swears it’s one of the most gorgeous things he’s ever heard. “It’s fine.” His smile is just as gorgeous too. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Mingi’s eyes flick towards the mullet man, who’s staring at him, just as confused as before. “Oh, no thank you! I’ll, uh, see you.”

‘I’ll see you?’ What the fuck kind of line is that? As Mingi bows his head out of both respect and embarrassment, he huddles the pint of ice cream close to him and strides past the employee, feeling a rush of cold wind as he does so.

With shaky hands, he picks his phone out of his pocket and dials San.

“Where are you?” Mingi asks as soon as San picks up.

“Not even a hello?”

“Now’s not the time for a joke,” Mingi says, his breathing already quickening.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m in the produce section. What’s wrong? Did you see something?”

“I think so,” Mingi whispers, though he’s not sure why. There aren’t that many people shopping for groceries this late at night. It’s not like anyone could hear him. Right?

His long legs are carrying him as quickly as possible in the direction of the produce. “What did you see?” San asks.

“I-it wasn’t anything scary; it just really caught me off guard. And—oh, wait. I see you.”

The two of them lower their phones at the sight of each other. San’s cart is about a quarter of the way full already, filled up with meat and vegetables of all sorts along with a few boxes of cereals and some bags of chips. For a moment, Mingi completely forgets about mullet man and gawks at the amount of food San has in his cart. “That’s more food than we’ve ever had at the apartment, like, ever,” Mingi says.

“I know, right? Figured might as well stock up on everything while we’re here,” San says. “Anyway, enough about that. What did you see?”

Mingi looks around, hoping that mullet man isn’t anywhere in sight. “There was an employee stocking the ice cream and there was a spirit next to him. But not like, _just_ a spirit. It was a full apparition. An actual person. I could see them, and I think they knew that I could see them.”

San’s mouth drops open. “No way! Did you talk to them?”

“Wh—no! You’re kidding me, right? In case you forgot, a living, breathing person was actually there, and imagine how he’d react to me talking to a person who’s not actually there,” Mingi says in disbelief. “God, San, sometimes you’re really stupid.”

“I blame school,” San replies, shrugging. “But you swear you saw this mysterious spirit? What did it look like?”

“It was a guy, short, couldn’t be much older than us,” Mingi says. “He had a fucking mullet.”

San’s cheeks puff up with a stifled laugh. “A mullet? In the twenty-first century? What is this, the eighties?”

Mingi rolls his eyes. “Look, whatever. Hairstyle doesn’t matter. It’s just… I rarely see full-bodied apparitions like this, especially this up close. I’ve only ever talked to one—”

“Wait, you can actually talk to ghosts? I mean, I knew you could see and hear them, but I didn’t know you could _actually_ talk to them. I was kinda joking when I asked if you did.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know if I can talk to this one, but I have a feeling I can,” Mingi says. “The only other full-bodied apparition I’ve seen, I could talk to. It was a while ago, but… from what I’ve researched, these spirits have to have very strong emotional attachments to the place or people they follow for them to appear like this.”

San raises an eyebrow. “So… are you saying this mullet ghost was attached to this employee?”

“It could be him, or it could be the place. I’m not entirely sure about that, and I don’t really want to stick around to find out. Can we go soon?”

San glances down at the cart. “Just a few more things, I promise. Did the ghost seem threatening?”

Mingi shakes his head instantly. “No, he was shorter than me, and actually a bit shorter than you,” he snorts.

“Yeah, you’ll be fine.” San pats his arm comfortingly. “You’re doing great, Mingi-yah. I’m proud of you for coming with me.”

Mingi’s shoulders relax slightly. “If you want, I can give you the money for your ice cream and you can go pay for it now. I’ll meet you back in the car,” San offers.

“Okay.” San smiles, taking out his wallet and handing Mingi a few bills. “Thanks, San. I really appreciate it.”

“And I appreciate you coming with me. Now go buy your ice cream, jackass.”

Mingi scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully as he turns around and heads in the direction of the checkouts. Only two aisles are open, along with the self-checkouts. Not wanting to wait in a line, Mingi opts for the latter option.

As he scans his ice cream, there’s an involuntary shiver down his spine. Instinctively, he turns around, not seeing anyone except an older woman scanning her own items. He looks to his right, then his left, when he notices the employee from before pushing a handcart of boxes down a neighboring aisle, unsurprisingly being followed by the mullet man.

Mingi freezes in place, eyes locked on the mullet man, who suddenly stops in his tracks despite the employee’s movement. His head immediately turns towards Mingi. The taller snaps his head back into place, placing his pint of ice cream onto the next platform and taking out the money San gave him.

“You can see me, can’t you?” a voice says into his left ear.

Mingi bites his lip, attempting to ignore the mullet man’s high-pitched voice. It sounds just like a normal voice, an alive one, no echo or reverb or anything remotely ghost-like. It’s just like someone is casually talking to him, but Mingi knows that’s far from the truth.

“Please, I know you can see me,” it says.

“I’m not going to talk to you,” Mingi mutters through clenched teeth.

“Please, I’m begging you.”

The emotion in the man’s voice is raw. The man sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. Mingi isn’t even sure if ghosts can cry, but if they can, then this man is close to it. Sighing, Mingi glances to his left, and sure enough, mullet man is standing right next to him. He looks up; the employee is nowhere in sight. “What is your name?” Mingi asks quietly as he turns back to the machine, sliding his money inside the slot.

“Kim Hongjoong.”

“Okay, Hongjoong-ssi. What exactly do you want?”

“I need to know why I’m not passing on.”

The sentence makes Mingi frown. He thought it was common, typical knowledge that spirits don’t pass on all the time, especially if there’s unfinished business, but then again, he rarely actually _talks_ to spirits, so it may not be entirely true. After all, he doesn’t know anything about this Hongjoong person, and he doesn’t want to.

Mingi shrugs. “You probably have some unfinished business. Your spirit won’t rest until something is resolved. I don’t know what that is, but it’s not my job to find out.”

“Are you serious?” Hongjoong asks, sounding slightly offended. “Look, I’m _trying._ I just… I can’t. I don’t know how to describe it. Sometimes I’m here, sometimes I’m not. Sometimes I can make myself appear, sometimes I have no control over it. It’s all so confusing, being dead. I didn’t ask for this.”

“And I didn’t ask for the ability to see the dead,” Mingi deadpans. The checkout completes the transaction and spits out his change, which he shoves into his pockets. “And on that note, I’m going to take my leave.”

“Please.” As if there’s a magnet, Mingi is held back, jaw clenching as he turns around to face the helpless-looking spirit. “Just… please, talk to me some more. Like, walk around the store, pretend you’re looking at shit. I _need_ to talk to you. You’re the only one who can see _and_ hear me. Please.”

Mingi _really_ didn’t expect to be doing this on his first outing in a long time. Sighing, he steps past Hongjoong, the pint of ice cream cold in his bare hand, and walks straight down the nearest aisle. “Thank you,” Hongjoong says, trailing right alongside him. “If I had money, I’d pay you.”

“Don’t even joke like that,” Mingi grits, eyes constantly glancing around, on the lookout for anybody who might be able to hear him. “You said you wanted to talk to me, so talk.”

“Thank you,” Hongjoong repeats. “Okay, my name is Kim Hongjoong. I’m twenty-two, at least, that’s how old I was when I died, like, a few months ago. I was in a car accident. I don’t remember exactly what happened when I died, but when I, uh, ‘woke up,’ for a lack of better terms, I was in my best friend’s apartment.”

“Your best friend?” Mingi inquires.

“His name is Yunho. Jeong Yunho. The guy you saw earlier.”

So the man with the puppy-like eyes is called Yunho. “Okay,” Mingi acknowledges. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you and say that I’m not used to seeing or talking to spirits like this. I probably don’t have all the answers you’re looking for.”

“That’s okay,” Hongjoong says, his tone honest. “It’s just been really lonely and frustrating because it’s like, anywhere Yunho is, I end up waking up at, and he can’t see or hear me. I want to talk to him, but I just… I can’t, obviously. When I saw you looking at me, I thought there was no way. And now… you’re actually talking to me.”

“So is the life of being able to see the dead,” Mingi says half-jokingly. “So Yunho, guy with the bleached hair and glasses. He was your best friend?”

“Yeah.”

Mingi turns left, back in the direction of the freezers. He keeps an eye out for this Yunho person as he returns to the ice cream, scanning the lower shelves. He bends down, Hongjoong following his movements. “From what I know, spirits who aren’t passing on usually have unfinished business. I’m guessing the reason why you aren’t moving on has something to do with Yunho, especially since you end up wherever he is.”

“Shit,” Hongjoong gripes. “I don’t fucking know what it is though!”

“Well, neither do I. In case you forgot, I literally just see spirits. I know nothing about you or Yunho,” Mingi whispers. “But now I’m curious. You mentioned that you ‘wake up’ wherever Yunho happens to be. What do you mean by that?”

“Like, sometimes, I’ll just kind of flicker in and out of locations. Whenever I’m not where Yunho is, it’s like I’m in this blank space where nothing’s going on and I can’t move or hear or see anything. And when I’m not there, I’m wherever Yunho is, whether it be at his apartment or at the library or here, which is where I usually end up. And for the most part, I can’t move that far away from him. It’s like my body physically moves with him no matter what.”

“There’s a strong connection there, physical and emotional. You’re drawn to him because he’s the reason you’re not passing on. And like I said already, I don’t know what that reason is, and if you don’t know why either, then I’m sorry. You’re at a dead end. Uh, no pun intended.”

Hongjoong groans, his head tilting back in both frustration and secondhand embarrassment (even though nobody can see it anyway). “Shit. So you’re saying that I won’t be able to pass on until this whole ‘unfinished business’ thing is settled?”

“Correct.”

“And it’s just lovely that I don’t know what it could possibly be,” Hongjoong grumbles. “Guess talking to you was kind of pointless, huh?”

Mingi shrugs. “Depends on how you look at it. At least you got to talk to someone after all this time of being dead.”

Hongjoong groans, leaving Mingi in an awkward position. It's not his job to help spirits. He's not one of those mediums who goes around consoling families and speaking to their deceased loved ones for money. He doesn't _want_ to be able to see spirits in the first place. He can tell that Hongjoong wants him to help, but he doesn't want to.

Does he?

"I-I'm sorry. I never got your name," Hongjoong says.

"Song Mingi." He doesn't even look at Hongjoong.

"Mingi-ssi... look, I get that you don't want to see ghosts and all. Trust me, I never wanted to _be_ one, not like this, not this soon. But if you're not willing to help me, then please, at least help Yunho-yah for me."

That catches Mingi's attention, prompting him to finally look into Hongjoong's pleading eyes. He's staring at him helplessly, but Mingi knows that he can't keep his gazed fixed for long. Nobody else can see Hongjoong. He has to keep it casual. He looks away swiftly, continuing to browse the lower shelves of ice cream and other frozen goods. "Why does Yunho need my help?"

"Well, I figured since you can see me, maybe you can pass along my messages to him. Tell him that I'm still here with him."

Mingi sighs. Hongjoong really doesn't know anything, even as a ghost. "Hongjoong-ssi, it's not that easy, you know that, right? If I tell Yunho that I know about you, he's going to think I'm insane. He'll probably think I'm messing with him. Ever heard of the five stages of grief?"

"Rings a bell," Hongjoong answers.

"The first stage is denial," Mingi informs him. "You said your accident was a few months ago, right? That's still pretty recent. If he hasn't received any grief counseling or doesn't have a support system, he could still be in that mindset."

"I don't think I'm getting what you're saying."

Mingi tilts his head back and lets out a frustrated sigh. "What I'm saying is, I can't just be like, 'hey, Yunho! I can talk to ghosts and your dead friend Kim Hongjoong is telling me that he's still here with you!'"

"Well when you put it like that, of course it sounds awful!" Hongjoong argues.

"Whether I say it like that or not, it's not a good thing for him to hear. Not everyone believes in the paranormal, Hongjoong-ssi. Do you know if Yunho does?"

"I think he's skeptic, but if you tell him things that only I would know, that would prove it to him, right?"

Mingi pinches the bridge of his nose. Hongjoong _really_ doesn't know anything. "Did you not hear what I just said? Look, Yunho is probably still in a fragile state of mind. I _can't_ bring you up in a random conversation. I don't even _know_ Yunho—"

"Then get to know him!" Hongjoong interrupts him. "He... he doesn't have that many friends. He could use a new one."

"One that just happens to be able to see his old dead best friend," Mingi mutters, unamused. "Besides, I doubt I could offer any relief to him, since I barely leave my apartment to begin with. _This_ —" Mingi motions towards the entirety of Hongjoong's body, "—is why I don't leave my room. I prefer not to interact with the dead. I didn't even want to go out tonight, my roommate San—"

"Mingi-ssi," Hongjoong cuts him off, tone suddenly much more serious than it has been so far. "I... I think I'm fading right now. Like, I'm about to go into that weird realm and I don't know when I'll be back. I can feel it." He looks around worriedly, presumably for Yunho. "Look, it's whatever, I guess. But I'm telling you, Yunho needs help. It obviously can't come from me, and... well, I don't know why, but I have this feeling that you two would be great friends."

The comment makes something both uneasy and intriguing stir in Mingi's gut. "You're right; he's still grieving over me. And I hate that I can't do anything. He doesn't really have anybody, his parents live far away from his school, and he lives alone. What you decide is obviously up to you, but if you do decide to talk to him, you don't _have_ to mention me. Just... be his friend," Hongjoong continues.

"What... what exactly do you mean he needs help?" Mingi asks.

"He's so lonely, Mingi-ssi. I worry about him a lot," Hongjoong says with genuine apprehension. "He's just kind of floating on through life, and it's hard for him to make friends. I honestly think he's waiting for someone to come to _him_ rather than reaching out. That being said, if you really did start talking to him, as awkward as it may be, something could come of it."

Mingi sucks in his bottom lip, weighing the options he has. He knows he isn't obligated to help either of them. He knows Hongjoong isn't going to haunt him for the rest of his life if he doesn't befriend Yunho. But there is genuine concern, maybe even desperation in Hongjoong's voice, as if his friend really _is_ in that much danger, and it definitely doesn't sit right with him. He never asked for his ability to see the dead, but he's also never had the opportunity to actually help one out.

"I don't have a lot of time," Hongjoong says, his voice beginning to sound like he's drowning. His form seemingly begins to flicker. It's something Mingi has never seen before. "If I don't see you again, Mingi-ssi, thank you for talking to me. It... it honestly made me feel better, knowing that someone living can see me."

Mingi feels his heart ache for Hongjoong. He just wants to help his friend. He's asking Mingi for help. And what kind of person would Mingi be if he doesn't help because he's _scared_? Is that what he really is? Scared?

Of what, exactly?

Mingi sighs, the decision weighing a thousand pounds in his chest, and sure enough, Hongjoong is nowhere to be seen when he turns his head. He groans internally as he finally stands, the pint of ice cream feeling much softer in his grasp now. He really hopes it hasn't melted that much.

Returning to the checkouts, he sees San in line unloading a halfway-full cart onto the conveyor belt as a cashier rings out the person in front of him. He approaches casually and greets his roommate, who seems surprised to see him. "Oh, Mingi-yah! What are you still doing here? I thought you went back to the car."

"Something came up," Mingi says, hoping San will catch on. He starts to help San unload the rest of his cart. "Sheesh, you really went all out here, huh?"

"I had to. Our apartment has been food-less long enough!" San announces like he's proud of it. Mingi has to suppress a laugh.

The cashier is a young woman who can't be much older than them. She greets them with a warm smile, though Mingi feels a bit bad for her. She's the only non-self checkout lane open, and San has the entire conveyor belt occupied. There's no one to help her bag the items.

Well, that is, until Yunho appears.

Mingi has to try to not visibly tense up. Hongjoong isn't there anymore, but that doesn't stop his skin from erupting in goosebumps. He glances up at Yunho, who's wearing a tiny smile as he starts packing away the first few items.

"San," Mingi whispers.

"What?" San says, out loud.

"That's him," Mingi _whispers_ , vaguely motioning in Yunho's direction. "The guy who had the ghost following him."

San turns his head slightly to look at Yunho, who's still minding his own business packing San's groceries. "Dude, really? Is the ghost still there?"

Mingi shakes his head. "No, he, uh, left a little while ago. I'll explain later."

Though his brows furrow, San just shrugs and watches as the rest of his groceries are rung up and bagged. He pays for it all with his card (god bless his parents and his well-paying internship) as Yunho starts loading the card with the bags.

"Um, th-thank you," Mingi finds himself saying. "For helping."

Yunho looks at him, and _god,_ those puppy-like eyes are making Mingi feel guilty for not wanting to help him. His smile widens. "No problem. Just doing my job."

Sure enough, the little name tag by his chest reads 'Jeong Yunho.' Mingi looks at it curiously, wondering why he didn't see it in the first place and had to have his dead best friend tell him his name for him.

"You, um, look familiar," Mingi lies, hoping that his tactics of trying to spark conversation work, despite not having that much time. "Do you go to school near here?"

"Yeah! You might have seen me at the library on campus, I work there sometimes," Yunho says.

It's a total bluff, but it worked.

There are plenty of things going on in Mingi's head right now. One being that Yunho has placed the last bag in the cart and probably has other shit to do despite the store being practically dead. Another being that San is probably ready to leave and is probably looking at him very weirdly. Another being that Yunho is working _two_ jobs, is still smiling despite his friend being dead, and probably has the prettiest eyes Mingi has ever seen.

When Yunho fits the last bag into the cart (Mingi counts _seven._ What the fuck, San?), he smiles brightly at Mingi. "Maybe I'll see you around, then!" he says before waving and walking off to return to his other duties.

"Y-yeah," Mingi mumbles even though Yunho is already out of earshot.

And sure enough, when he finally turns towards San, he has a single eyebrow raised at him.

As they're walking to the car, Mingi hangs his head in embarrassment. "Dude, what the hell was that back there?" San asks, amused rather than accusatory.

"Just unlock the car," Mingi grumbles. San obeys, at least, and opens the trunk to the car as Mingi grabs the first bag, then the second. Then the third. He's so embarrassed that his face is hot and he's shaking and he's moving at a hundred miles and hour.

The next thing he knows, the cart is in a drop-off station, and he's already in the passenger's seat as San climbs into the driver's. "Dude, you're like, wired. Are you okay?" San asks.

"I don't know," Mingi answers, rubbing his face with his hands. "I just wanted some damn ice cream." He glances down pitifully at the pint in his lap, the bits of frost already having melted. "And it's probably already partially melted and I'll have to refreeze it when we get home. I can't even eat it right away. And I saw and talked to a ghost. Man, this fucking sucks."

"I'm still proud of you," San says, turning on the ignition. "Now, mind telling me about this ghost and why you seem so worked up over it?"

Mingi explains the whole story, or what he could gather from Hongjoong's relatively vague details about Yunho, and San listens attentively, nodding and signaling for Mingi to continue at some points until his story is finished. His head is already swirling.

"Wow," San says at the end of it. "So that's why you were trying to talk to the guy. I was wondering why, since you don't really... talk to anybody."

Mingi narrows his eyes, but he knows San is right. He can't remember the last time he's really interacted with someone in a context that wasn't educational or professional. Maybe that's why he's still feeling the embarrassment, hot on his face, even though they're already far away from the store, from Yunho.

But now Mingi knows that Yunho attends the same school as them and works at the library on campus. Which means that, if Mingi ever goes to the library, there's a possibility of him seeing Yunho there. And Hongjoong.

"Fuck," Mingi groans, burying his hands in his hair. "What do I do? I wanna help Yunho, sure, but..."

"It might be a good opportunity for you, honestly," San says. "The guy seems nice. Who knows, maybe you two could actually become really good friends."

"But—"

"Not to mention it'll hopefully get you out of your room more often," San cuts him off, grinning mischievously. "Look, Mingi-yah, I think you should try. I know it's hard for you to put yourself out there, what with being able to hear the voices of the dead and all, but I don't know, maybe try to focus on the living instead? Like, interacting with someone who's actually alive and breathing."

"In case you forgot, this person is being followed by someone who isn't," Mingi says.

"But you also said this ghost wasn't threatening or anything like that. What's the harm?" San asks, and honestly, Mingi can't argue with that.

There really isn't any harm in it. Sure, he's definitely stepping outside of his comfort zone here, but he'd be helping someone in the process. Two someones. One alive and one dead. And if it doesn't work out, Mingi can just shut himself away in his room again.

There isn't any harm. San is right.

Mingi sighs, leaning his head back against the car's headrest. "I hate it when you're right."

"I love it," San chirps happily.

When they get back to the apartment complex, they have to carry all of the bags up with them (Mingi is out of breath when he finally gets to put them down), and the first thing Mingi does once the groceries are put down is put his beloved pint of ice cream in the freezer.

"Looks like you'll have to wait until later to eat it," San comments, snickering.

"Oh, shut up," Mingi gripes, already unloading the first grocery bag.

"I just find it funny, how I managed to get you out of your room with the promise of a pint of ice cream and you can't even eat it right away. Well, you could, but who wants melted ice cream?"

Mingi rolls his eyes, tempted to hit San over the head with the loaf of bread he bought. "Not to mention, you got a pint of ice cream _and_ a potential new friend. Or two," San adds.

"How the hell do I even approach this?" Mingi asks, annoyed.

"Well, go to the library tomorrow when you're done with classes and see if he's there! You only have a morning class tomorrow anyway. If he works there during the day, you might see him," San says. "Just be like, 'hey, you're Yunho, right? I saw you at the grocery store yesterday!' or something like that. I don't know. Just like, leave the part about his dead friend out, obviously."

"Well, yeah," Mingi says.

Drained both physically and mentally, as soon as Mingi is finished helping with the groceries, he retreats back to his room, takes a quick shower, and goes to bed.

The ice cream will have to wait.

-

Mingi supposes he could try doing his homework at the library instead of his own room. Maybe there aren't that many bothersome spirits lingering around. It's a new building, which could possibly mean that there is less spiritual energy attached to it, but then again, if Yunho is there, so could Hongjoong.

When he's finished with his first and only class that day, he makes the trip to the library. He's never been inside, and he's sure he looks like a complete idiot when he steps inside, glancing around aimlessly as he takes in this new environment. He doesn't hear anything, but his skin still crawls.

There is energy everywhere. Mingi knows this. It's an unavoidable encounter. Luckily, this building doesn't seem to hold any negative energy, and there are no voices that he can distinguish as being the dead. All he can hear is the chatter of a couple students.

The library is five floors. Mingi groans internally; he does _not_ want to have to explore five floors just to find Yunho. What if Yunho isn't even working? The trip is pointless, that's what, and Mingi will go straight home if he doesn't come across the bleach blond with puppy-like eyes.

Bracing himself, he takes a deep breath as he climbs his first flight of stairs. The entrance is its own floor with absolutely nothing else on it. Great.

On the second floor (first? Mingi doesn't know what to count it as) is the front desk immediately to his left. There's a librarian sitting there and a few others, apparently students, but there's no sight of Yunho. Not yet, anyway. Yunho hadn't mentioned _where_ in the library he worked, so Mingi is entering this completely blind.

Lovely.

He could ask, but that would be so fucking weird. Mingi may lack social skills, but he knows what's acceptable and what's not. Mostly.

As it turns out, he doesn't have to travel far, because there's a familiar tingle on his skin and a voice ringing in his head.

"Mingi-ssi?"

Mingi keeps walking. He sticks his earbuds in.

"Mingi-ssi, I know you can hear me—"

"Of course I can hear you," Mingi mutters. The coldness keeps following him. "I'm trying to pretend like I'm talking on the phone."

"Oh, gotcha." Hongjoong clicks his tongue. "Good thinking."

"Yeah, whatever."

"So you... you decided to help?" Hongjoong asks hopefully.

Mingi walks. Presses his right earbud in further. "I'll do what I can. Where's Yunho?"

"At the student tutoring desk. Keep going a bit further; it's gonna be on your right."

When Mingi rounds a corner, sure enough, there are several desks arranged in a rectangular formation. Sitting at one of the desks is Yunho, all bleached hair and glasses, with a laptop in front of him and his nose buried in a book. "Shit," Mingi breathes.

"If you need a tutor, well, he's your guy. He's really smart. Literature is his best subject. That's what he tutors in," Hongjoong says.

"I don't need help with lit. It's my best subject too," Mingi whispers.

"Then just go say hi or something. He'll recognize you," Hongjoong encourages. Mingi can feel the chill beneath his shirt, pressing into his back. "Go on!"

Mingi inhales deeply and makes his way to Yunho's desk. The blond is quick to notice, as he looks up before Mingi even arrives at his desk. "Hello," he greets, pushing his glasses up by the frame. "What can I do for you?"

"I, um—"

"Oh, wait, I remember you! I saw you at the grocery store last night. You got the ice cream, right? And your friend bought like, a ton of groceries?"

"Y-yeah, that was me."

Yunho giggles, fucking _giggles,_ and it's like music to Mingi's ears. "It's nice to see you again. I feel bad, I never got your name." He reaches his hand out for Mingi to shake. Mingi takes it, though he's pretty sure his hands are clammy but _fuck_ _it,_ he's made it this far and he's certain Hongjoong is watching this entire scene unfold in amusement. He's sure San would be amused too. God, he's so fucking awkward.

"Song Mingi. And you're Yunho, right? F-from your name tag."

_Not from your dead friend._

"Yup, Jeong Yunho, the one and only. Well, probably not the only, but you know what I mean," Yunho says with a warm smile. "So, are you here because you need a tutor, or?"

"J-just wanted to say hi, I guess. Kinda," Mingi says, his mouth twitching awkwardly, not knowing if he should smile or not. His smile is not nearly as nice as Yunho's.

"Oh. Well, hi," Yunho laughs, clearly amused, and Mingi swears he can hear Hongjoong chuckling behind him. "You can have a seat, if you'd like. I don't have any appointments and I get off in about a half hour."

Mingi nods before sliding into the chair across from Yunho. "Are you working at the store later?"

Yunho shakes his head. "I alternate. I work here during the day, then I work at the grocery store the next night, and so on."

"Oh, you work every day then?"

"Yup, though I don't make as much as you might think. I've been trying to get more hours, take a few more assignments here and there, but it's hard to balance two jobs and a full-time school schedule."

Mingi cringes, feeling suddenly guilty that he's never left his room when Yunho is out here working two jobs and being a full-time student. Well, at least Yunho can't see the dead.

"What do you tutor in?" Mingi asks despite already knowing the answer.

"Literature. I help revise papers, too," Yunho says.

"Looks like I won't be needing your help, then," Mingi says, but his eyes instantly widen at his unintentionally arrogant remark. "Wait, that sounded shitty, hold on—"

But Yunho just laughs, his eyes crinkling in the most adorable way as he does. "It's okay, dude. I know what you meant. You're good at writing papers then, I gather?"

"Y-yeah," Mingi stammers, still trying to come off the embarrassment. "I like writing and reading a lot. I like to think I'm a pretty well-rounded student, but reading and writing is my specialty. I can probably get a ten-page paper out in maybe three days."

"Impressive," Yunho says, nodding approvingly. "Though I will say, I _do_ revise papers for a living. If you ever need a second opinion, you'll know where to find me." And he fucking _winks._

"U-um, yeah! Maybe."

Hongjoong's laugh makes him jump. "You're so awkward, dude," he says, now standing by his side.

Mingi has to hold it in. He can't be talking to Hongjoong right now. Not when his old best friend is alive, sitting right across from him, and unable to see him.

"So do you like to write for fun?" Yunho asks.

"Sometimes," Mingi answers, snapping his attention back to Yunho. "I like poetry. Sometimes I'll write about... the things I see."

_And hear, and feel, everywhere I go because I can see, hear, and apparently talk to the dead._

"I'd love to read your work one of these days," Yunho says genuinely, smiling. Mingi swears he hasn't seen Yunho without a smile so far. How the hell is he so good at smiling? His best friend is dead. If Mingi didn't already know this, he never would have guessed.

Just then, the chill disappears. Mingi frowns and glances to his sides. Hongjoong is gone.

"Something wrong?" Yunho questions.

"Oh, n-no. Just, ah, thought I heard someone call my name for some reason," Mingi lies, though he knows it's a dumb one.

"Ah, I hate it when that happens," Yunho says. "Like, you'll just be doing something and you _swear_ you hear your name being called. Who knows, maybe it's a ghost or something."

Mingi laughs stiffly. If only Yunho knew.

"So, um, would you... maybe want to hang out sometime?" Yunho asks, and Mingi is pretty sure his heart stops for a second. Yunho just asked _him_ to hang out. _Him._ Song Mingi, awkward ghost seer who doesn't ever leave his room. _What the hell?_ "You seem like a pretty chill guy. And I don't really get a lot of people stopping by just to say hi."

"Oh, y-yeah! Sure, I'd like to hang out sometime. Whenever works best for you."

 _"I honestly think he's waiting for someone to come to_ him _rather than reaching out. That being said, if you really did start talking to him, as awkward as it may be, something could come of it."_

Oh god. Hongjoong was right.

But Mingi definitely hadn't been expecting Yunho to be the one to ask to hang out, _especially_ not this quickly.

Were the spirits watching over him or something? Because this feels _way_ too easy.

Because Yunho is already getting his phone out and handing it to Mingi for him to enter his number into. Because Yunho is already smiling at him like he would at any new friend. Because Yunho already seems eager to hang out with him, get to know him, to be _friends._

Mingi can't remember the last time he made friend (other than San, of course).

And now, that possibility feels more imminent than ever.

Mingi feels a shiver course down his spine, and he can't tell if it's from the spirits or not. 


	2. listen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the social anxiety definitions came from the top google results oop  
> also i have absolutely NO knowledge of spirituality so just like read over it and don't read into it lol

"Whoa whoa whoa. Hold on. You _what_?"

Mingi visibly cringes, his fingers clasped together, his elbows resting on the kitchen island as he presses his hands into his forehead. "Yes, I got his number, and he asked me to hang out sometime."

"You know, you don't sound too happy about it," San says, "but I'll be damned. You actually put yourself out there. I'm proud."

Mingi can't tell how sarcastic San is being, but he's too lost in both embarrassment and nervousness to care. He hasn't texted Yunho since they exchanged numbers, and Yunho hasn't texted him. And quite frankly, Mingi already knows that he doesn't have the guts to text Yunho first. He's sure that if Hongjoong were with him, he'd pester Mingi into texting Yunho, but thankfully, the spirit realm doesn't work like that.

"Thanks, I guess," Mingi mutters, flattening out his elbows and resting his chin on his hands. "What are you making?"

"Remember that chicken recipe I was talking about? Yeah, that," San answers as he chops up some onions.

"I'll have the takeout number ready for when you somehow manage to fuck that up," Mingi jokes, smiling wickedly.

"Hey, fuck you."

Somehow, San actually _doesn't_ fuck it up, and Mingi almost hates himself for thinking that he would when the chicken is actually _delicious_ , better than any takeout he's ever had. He swears he feels like shedding tears as he scarfs down the rice that San made to complement it, and San just watches in amusement as his roommate thoroughly indulges in his cooking.

His phone goes off mid-bite, and he nearly chokes. "Hey!" San exclaims. "You better not throw that up, I worked really hard on it!"

Mingi swallows it, struggling as he does so and coughing afterwards, but he at least manages to wash it down. He picks up his phone as he clears his throat, his eyes bulging out of his head when he sees Yunho's name on screen. "Oh my god."

"What, what?" San says excitedly, sliding over to Mingi's side. "Is it Yunho? What did he say?"

Mingi reads every character carefully.

**[Yunho]**

_hey! is this mingi??_

"He's asking if it's me!" Mingi says excitedly.

San's facial expression softens to an amused grin at that. "Aw man, you got me all hyped up for nothing."

Mingi rolls his eyes and types out his response.

**[Mingi]**

_yeah this is him! what's up?_

**[Yunho]**

_sorry i didn't get around to texting you earlier. had some afternoon classes. so, where and when do you wanna hang out?_

San is practically hovering over Mingi's phone, bouncing up and down as he reads Yunho's message. "Dude! He totally wants to be your friend! Look, _he's_ the one asking _you_ to hang out, and he seems super enthusiastic about it. Who knew that whole seeing-his-dead-best-friend-in-the-grocery-store-thing would work out like this?"

Certainly not Mingi. He looks at his roommate with distaste, his gut already swirling with nervousness. "Well, what do I say now?"

"You say yes, dummy! Pick a time and place. But a _public_ place; do not bring him here on the first date."

Mingi nearly chokes on air. "Wha—who said it's a date?" he exclaims.

San grins wickedly, folding his fingers and resting his chin on them as he waggles his eyebrows at his flustered roommate. "I dunno, it could turn into one for all I know. If not a romantic one, then a completely platonic date. A bro-date. A... brate."

Mingi shakes his head, turning back to his phone. "You're so annoying, San. I can't believe you're older than me by a month."

But when Mingi thinks about it, he doesn't really _know_ any public places to hang out at because he doesn't leave his apartment. Realizing his slip up, he looks to San again, who raises an eyebrow at him, still smirking. "Let me guess," San says, "you don't know any places to meet him at."

Mingi nods sadly, and San suddenly snatches Mingi's phone from his hold. Mingi is too slow and too flabbergasted to protest, and the next thing he knows, another message is typed out.

**[Mingi]**

_the campus café near the library sound good?_

**[Yunho]**

_sure! that's actually my favorite one out of all the ones on campus :) you have taste my friend. i'm free tomorrow afternoon before i gotta go to work at the grocery store, if that works for you_

San squeals at Yunho's message. "See! He called you his friend! _And_ he said yes!"

Mingi scoffs and plucks his phone out of San's greedy hands. "That's just an expression. He's not gonna want to be friends with me once he learns how much of a loser I am."

San's shoulders visibly slump and his smile immediately turns upside down. "Mingi-yah, that's not true," he says genuinely.

Mingi just shrugs. "I don't leave my house and the only things I have going for me are that I see dead people and I'm good at writing. Other than that, I'm super boring and incredibly awkward."

"Awkward, yes. Boring? I don't think so," San says. "You've got, like, a dry, cynical sense of humor. And from what I could gather, Yunho seems like a really wholesome, fun-loving guy. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him."

"About how to be not miserable?"

"About how to live life without having to worry so much about shit," San clarifies, crossing his arms as if he's a parent lecturing his child. "And how to be _happy._ "

Mingi stiffens at that with the knowledge that Yunho _isn't_ happy, that deep down, his grief is probably eating away at him and he's just _that_ good at putting on a show. A true travesty if Mingi's ever known one. But Mingi is damn sure that San hasn't had to deal with this for a long time.

Mingi remembers when he'd reached out to San's grandmother. When San had told him about her in the first place, how he was closer to her than his actual parents, how she was more of a mother to him than his actual mother. Mingi had never seen San cry so much in the entirety they've been roommates, but San assured Mingi that he was okay, that while her death was difficult to bear on several days, at several times in his life, that he'd moved along and is living for her.

The difference here is that neither Yunho nor Hongjoong have moved on, that Hongjoong is still wandering the earth plane searching for the reason why he isn't passing onto the next, and that Yunho is still deeply grieving.

If anything, it should be San teaching Yunho to be happy after losing a loved one, because even though Mingi can see the dead, he's never had to mourn for anybody himself.

His parents are still alive. His grandparents passed away before he could form memories of them. All of his extended family members are alive. He never had friends to begin with, so he never had to deal with losing any.

So no, Mingi can't teach Yunho to be happy or vice versa, but he's not about to tell San why that is. After all, San is the happy one.

It makes Mingi wonder, _is he happy?_

Being cooped up inside all day, tucked away from the outside world in fear of seeing things that only he can explain? Missing out on life's excitement, all the fun he _could_ be having if he just put himself out there... it makes his chest ache sometimes, knowing that he could have all of that if he just stopped being such a downer.

He wants to blame it on his ability, but he's sure that there are others just like him that go out and do shit.

It makes him wonder why _he_ doesn't.

"Yeah, okay," Mingi says somewhat dismissively, opting for not telling San about Yunho's possible post-death depression to spare himself from more of San's 'advice.'

"You do know where the café is, right?" San questions, and Mingi stares at him blankly in response. San sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

-

Mingi's eyes flick around nervously as he takes careful steps into the café. It's honestly a nice place, a modern building with an old-fashioned twist for aesthetic purposes. He's quite surprised that there's even a café like this on campus; he'd expected a more Starbucks-type ordeal.

He keeps his head ducked down as he pads over to a booth to wait for Yunho, whipping out his phone and checking his messages. There aren't any messages from Yunho, and his last text was a good luck text from San with a million thumbs-up emojis. Mingi bites his bottom lip, feeling his knee begin to bounce with apprehension. He glances to his right, where the front counter is. There's a student ordering something.

He's finding it hard to breathe as he unconsciously hones in on that student. The student gives off a very strange vibe, making Mingi's skin crawl beneath his sweater.

Suddenly, his phone goes off, snapping him out of his daze, and he turns his attention to it, seeing a message from Yunho that says _be there in a few!_

Mingi takes a mental note that he should buy more lip balm from how much he's biting his lip. He's never noticed it as a nervous habit, probably because he doesn't go out enough to truly _feel_ this sort of thing. But now, his lower limb is shaking and his lips are dry and that student is starting to give off an even stronger aura as his facial expression becomes increasingly frustrated.

The barista behind the counter seems to be explaining something. Mingi assumes that the student is probably unhappy with the service, but the aura that he's radiating doesn't spell normal frustration.

Mingi stands up, and that's when he sees Yunho walk through the front door.

That's also when the student slams his fist down on the counter, the thud of it ringing throughout the café. It makes Mingi flinch, and the entire café goes silent, all of the customers' attention now turned to the raging student.

"Where is he?" he booms, and Mingi notices Yunho already stepping up to the counter.

"Hey, what's your problem?" Yunho asks firmly but not aggressively.

The student turns around and looks _up_ at Yunho. While Yunho isn't intimidating in the slightest, he definitely beats the student in the height department. "That's none of your fucking business," the student growls.

"Yeah, well, bring your _business_ somewhere else where you aren't disturbing innocent people," Yunho snaps back, standing tall and firm and glaring down at the student.

And almost as if on cue, Hongjoong peeks out from behind Yunho's back, appearing out of nowhere, and it instantly turns Mingi's blood cold.

The student's lip turns up in a scowl but he does end up turning around and leaving. Mingi clutches his chest, feeling it heavy with anxiety and fear as he watches the student storm out of the café. Yunho lets out an exasperated sigh, his shoulders sagging as he steps up to the counter. "I'm really sorry about that. You shouldn't have to deal with that kind of stuff here."

Mingi watches as everyone's heads turn back to what they were doing as the barista thanks Yunho profusely, looking close to tears. He sits back down and avoids watching the rest of the scene unfold, not wanting Hongjoong to see him, even though he knows it's kind of unavoidable.

He stares at the table until he hears footsteps approaching and sees the vague shadow of a person slide into the seat across from him, bringing his attention upwards. "Hey," Yunho greets him with a smile.

Mingi's mouth twitches in an attempt to smile back. "Hi."

"I'm, uh, not sure if you saw, but—"

"Y-yeah, I saw," Mingi squeaks, his throat closing up on him.

"Ah. Sorry you had to see that. I don't know what was up with him but hopefully he doesn't cause any more trouble." Yunho holds a takeaway cup of what Mingi assumes is coffee in his two hands. His fingers are long and slender, encasing the entire cup.

"Yeah," Mingi mumbles with a tiny nod. "It was kind of scary, not gonna lie. Not really what I'd hoped to see my first time here."

Yunho's head tilts in confusion. "It's your first time here?"

Mingi has to stop himself from cringing. "Um, y-yeah, I, uh... my roommate kind of stole my phone last night when we were talking and texted you that, um, thing."

Yunho covers his mouth with his hand as he snickers beneath it, his shoulders moving with it. "Ah, so your roommate is _that_ kind of roommate. I see. Was he the one you when to the grocery store with? What's his name?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. That's the one. His name is San."

"San? Oh, are you talking about Choi San?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

Yunho laughs again, sounding like the world's most beautiful song to Mingi's ears. Just by looking at him, hearing him laugh so genuinely, one wouldn't think he's grieving. While Yunho is laughing, Mingi turns his head slightly. There's no sight of Hongjoong. "I've heard about Choi San, though I never knew what he looked like. My coworker talks about him a lot."

"Who's your coworker?"

"His name is Jung Wooyoung. He's in one of San's classes, and he never shuts up about how cute San is."

"What does he say about him?" Mingi asks curiously.

"Just that he's 'the hottest human being to ever walk the planet.' He swears one day he'll get San's attention, so I'm guessing San doesn't really know him."

Mingi shrugs. "I've never heard San talk about a Jung Wooyoung before. I can pass the name along, i-if you want," he offers.

Yunho's face illuminates with a smile, his eyes shining like stars, and it nearly knocks the wind out of Mingi. _How could someone so sad look so ethereally happy?_ "I mean, yeah! Wooyoung might be a bit embarrassed, but maybe it'll get San to notice him!" He pauses, eyes widening suddenly. "Wait, you didn't get anything yet! I'm sorry! Ah, um, after the whole altercation earlier, the barista gave me a drink on the house."

Yunho stands up and motions his head in the direction of the counter. "Come on, let's get you something."

Though Mingi is very tempted to decline, he stands up, figuring that it's best to act _normal_ for once and accept the goddamn offer instead of sitting around and looking uncomfortable. He follows Yunho to the counter, where the same barista from before greets them. Mingi orders a hot chocolate, seeing as though he's already shaking enough and doesn't need the caffeine to exacerbate that. He trails behind Yunho back to their table, glancing around the café in search of Hongjoong.

Still, he's nowhere to be seen.

"You alright?" Yunho asks as they slide back into their seats.

Mingi snaps himself out of it, focusing his attention back to the puppy-looking man right in front of him. "Oh! Y-Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry, I, uh, don't get out much." His lips immediately shut as he realizes what he just said.

 _What the fuck? Why would he_ say _that?_

But Yunho smiles at him sympathetically. "It's okay. No offense, but I could kinda tell."

"O-oh."

Mingi feels his heart twinge as he holds back a cringe, averting Yunho's eyes. "I don't mean it offensively! I just, uh, you seem kinda shy is all. There's nothing wrong with that," Yunho says in an attempt to comfort.

"No, it's okay. I know I'm not the most outgoing person out there. San tries to get me to go out all the time and I usually say no... so when we went to the grocery store the other night, he said he was super proud of me."

"If you don't mind me asking, do you have, like, social anxiety or something?"

Mingi sucks his bottom lip in again and wraps his arms around himself, feeling as if his entire body is shrinking. Has it really come to this? Has his ability really given him social anxiety? Mingi hasn't even considered such a possibility, having social anxiety. Though he's never been diagnosed, the racing of his heart and the shaking of his bones certainly leads him to draw that conclusion. He shrugs nonetheless, though. "I don't know, maybe."

"It's okay! I didn't mean to be so forward with that. An old friend of mine... was kinda introverted too."

That grabs Mingi's attention, and he looks up to see Yunho not smiling anymore, his face solemn. "He wasn't very outgoing, but he wanted to be. I would always drag him along to shit even though he didn't want to go, and he'd have a good time sometimes. But he always felt bad, like he was being a downer or a party pooper, but I told him again and again that being introverted isn't a bad thing. He was very intelligent... and honestly, you kind of remind me of him."

 _That_ takes Mingi by surprise. Yunho looks out the window to his right, smiling as if in remembrance. "What's his name?" Mingi asks softly, already fearing the answer.

"His name was Hongjoong."

A dagger of guilt shoots through Mingi's chest. "He, um, passed away in an accident a few months ago," Yunho continues, his voice beginning to waver. "So he's not with us anymore, but it's alright."

But Mingi knows that's not true. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says, knowing very well that offering a condolence like that does nothing to heal, but it's all he can do.

"A-anyway, enough about that," Yunho says hurriedly. "So, do you work?"

Mingi shakes his head. "I'm thinking of becoming an online tutor, though. I could definitely use the money. Trying to actually break away from my parents and start being independent for once."

"I could help you with that! I'm a general student tutor, so I do both online and in-person tutoring. Have you thought about being a teaching assistant?"

"I, uh, don't think I could take on that responsibility. Since, you know..."

"Ah." Yunho nods understandingly. "Being a T.A. is definitely more demanding than being a tutor. But yeah, I can help you get into the tutoring program if you'd like!"

Yunho smiles again. Mingi doesn't think he could ever get sick of seeing Yunho's smiles, but each time he sees it, it feels _wrong, he_ feels wrong. He knows Hongjoong is watching. He knows that Hongjoong is still with Yunho. He knows Yunho is still grieving, and he can't help but feel like he's taking advantage of Yunho's kindness and generosity while he's in such a vulnerable state.

"Y-yeah! That would be great, actually," Mingi says, hoping it sounds convincingly enthusiastic.

"Cool, I'll introduce you to the professor in charge of the tutoring program sometime. He's always looking for new tutors," Yunho says. "I'll be right back, just gotta use the restroom."

"Okay." Mingi nods as Yunho stands up and leaves him at the table.

And of course, that's when Hongjoong conveniently appears (again, seemingly out of nowhere) and takes Yunho's place. Mingi flinches, taking a deep breath in as he grabs his chest. "Jesus! Hongjoong-ssi, don't just appear out of nowhere like that!" he whispers.

"In case you forgot, that's kind of how I appear," Hongjoong says, rolling his eyes playfully. "Anyway... I've been in and out of here, heard and saw a few things. When Yunho told that guy to fuck off, it's like... I instantly appeared by his side."

Mingi shrugs. "Could be a protection thing."

"Yeah, maybe. But, like, I disappeared right after that. It was so weird, like, I could kind of hear you guys talking but I couldn't understand a word you were saying. It was all static-y, like I had really bad reception or something."

Mingi reaches into his pocket and pulls out his earbuds again, plugging them into his ears. "I don't know what to tell you, Hongjoong-ssi."

"Oh, there's nothing _wrong_ with any of that. I wasn't worried or anything, it was just kind of an observation. But out of curiosity, what _were_ you guys talking about?"

"He mentioned you, actually," Mingi informs him. He glances up and sees Hongjoong's eyes widen and mouth open in surprise.

"Wait, really? What did he say?"

Mingi looks back down at his phone screen. "He said I reminded him a lot of you."

"How?" Hongjoong asks, almost condescendingly.

"He said you were really introverted and he would always drag you to shit even though you didn't want to go, and that you'd have a good time sometimes. And that you were really smart." Mingi glances up again, seeing Hongjoong's facial expression soften, his mouth forming a sad smile. "He changed the subject really quickly, saying it was alright. Which... isn't the truth, right?"

Hongjoong sighs and shakes his head. "Far from it. Trust me, Mingi-ssi, Yunho has been having a really hard time. I mean... what he said about me was pretty accurate. I spent a lot of time at home doing my own thing. Yunho would always take me out to dinner or shopping or just anywhere that wasn't my apartment, and even though I was reluctant most times, I managed to have some good times with him. But he didn't have that many _friend_ friends, you know what I mean? Like, he's a sociable person, definitely, but I... I was his only _close_ friend. Losing me wrecked him, and it's still eating away at him."

"Y-yeah," Mingi says awkwardly. "He's really good at faking it, though. Like, if I didn't know about you and all the things you've been telling me, I would've assumed he's just a chirpy, happy guy."

Hongjoong shakes his head. "Well, he's certainly chirpy, but he's not happy. There isn't a single night that I've seen him not cry."

Mingi swallows the dry lump that's been forming in his throat. Seeing Yunho cry? Mingi couldn't dream of it, not when all he's seen Yunho do is smile like nothing is wrong. Still, it's strange to hear it all coming from Hongjoong, his _dead_ friend. On the surface, Yunho is fine, but according to Hongjoong, who still sees Yunho where nobody else can, he isn't fine. "Far from it," apparently.

There's an internal conflict swirling around in Mingi's brain, teetering between believing Hongjoong or believing what he sees. He figures that a lot of people must feel like this.

"After I died, he started going out a lot less. He's just working and going to class. He talks to his coworkers Wooyoung and Jongho sometimes, but other than that, he hasn't really made any friends. I just... I don't want him to be alone," Hongjoong says.

"He's not," Mingi says, trying to sound convincing.

"Even though I can see him and stuff, I don't know how he's truly feeling. Obviously he doesn't open up to anybody, and he doesn't even know I'm around him, so... I don't know."

"What are you saying, Hongjoong-ssi?" Mingi asks, already feeling mentally exhausted. "Are you saying you want me to get him to open up?"

"N-no! I mean... yes? I don't know." Hongjoong groans, elbows hitting the table but not making a sound. He buries his face in his hands. "Mingi-ssi, I just feel like you're the only one who can really help him."

"Hongjoong-ssi, even though I see the dead, I've never dealt with the passing of loved ones myself," Mingi admits. "I literally don't know how to help anybody with grief. I don't know _how_ to help him, and if you don't know how either, then we're stuck."

"I know, I just—"

Just then, Mingi hears footsteps approaching, familiar ones, and he turns to his right to see Yunho returning. "I'm back!" the bleach blond announces with a grin. He slides back into his seat, where Hongjoong had just been (and is now gone).

Mingi gapes at the spot for a second, barely registering that it's Yunho now. "Mingi?" Yunho says, waving his hand in front of Mingi's face. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," Mingi manages to say, though it sounds like he's just finished choking on something.

And he can't help but think choking and dying would be a lot easier than whatever _this_ is.

Getting Yunho to open up? Hell, Mingi can't even open _himself_ up. He can barely go outside without his limbs wanting to give out and his lungs wanting to collapse. Going out like this took an uncanny amount of effort, and it's just a fucking _café._ How the hell is Mingi supposed to do this?

Still, seeing Yunho smile, talking about the things he likes to do and the music he listens to and his achievements and classes, Mingi feels a ripple in his heart, a twang of both guilt and admiration, for Yunho and how he appears to be so happy, so ambitious, even though Hongjoong had just told him otherwise. Mingi can't even begin to imagine what Yunho crying would look like, and he doesn't want to. All he knows is that he never wants to see the smile leave Yunho's face. He wants Yunho to be able to laugh without forcing it, to smile without faking it, for Yunho to be _happy._

Happiness looks good on Yunho, Mingi concludes, and he wants to do everything in his power to make it stay that way.

-

"Jung Wooyoung? Oh yeah, I know him. He's in my chemistry class," San says, his cheeks puffed up with how much food it stuffed into it. He's just made another recipe, some sort of vegetable dish that is, again, surprisingly good. Mingi had never taken San for the chef type with how rambunctious he is. "He has a crush on me?"

Mingi _knows_ for a fact that San isn't straight, but he's never outright said it. He's pretty sure San knows that he knows already, given that he says things like "I'd let him ram my ass so hard I can't walk for a week" or "I want to suck his dick until I can't feel my face" whenever they watch dramas with handsome actors in them. They're just not things a straight man would say. Hearing that Wooyoung has a crush on San made Mingi feel some sort of relief, since San constantly complains about the lack of openly queer people on campus.

He also assumes that Yunho must be a hundred percent okay with it, which makes him even more respectable and wholesome and perfect.

San smirks and leans back in his chair, swallowing his food. "Huh. Never would've thought."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, kid's definitely not straight, but I wouldn't have thought he has a crush on me. He's never even talked to me before," San says.

"Well, Yunho just said that he thinks you're the 'hottest human being to ever walk the planet,' so it's obvious that he must want to get to know you."

"Or he just wants to sit on my dick."

"Or both."

San raises and eyebrow, then closes his eyes and nods. "Touché."

"It would be funny if you just started flirting with him out of nowhere. Get him all flustered and shit," Mingi suggests, realizing just how San-like that is. San must be rubbing off on him. It almost worries him, in a way.

San nods approvingly, smirking. "I like the way you think, Mingi-yah. I have class with him tomorrow. Maybe I'll slip him my number."

Mingi chuckles, checking his phone for no reason. He and Yunho had talked until Yunho had to leave for work late afternoon and he's fairly certain it ended on a good note. Yunho said he'd text him when he could. "I'm sure I'll hear about it from Yunho if you do. From what Yunho told me, it seems like Jung Wooyoung is your number one fanboy."

"A fanboy, huh? A secret admirer, if you will," San says conspiratorially.

Mingi stares at his roommate blankly with no words left in his mouth.

-

_"The defining feature of social anxiety disorder, also called social phobia, is intense anxiety or fear of being judged, negatively evaluated, or rejected in a social or performance situation."_

_"Social anxiety is the fear of social situations that involve interaction with other people. You could say social anxiety is the fear and anxiety of being negatively judged and evaluated by other people."_

_"Social anxiety disorder is a common type of anxiety disorder. A person with social anxiety disorder feels symptoms of anxiety or fear in certain or all social situations, such as meeting new people, dating, being on a job interview, answering a question in class, or having to talk to a cashier in a store."_

Mingi scoffs and shuts his laptop, rolling his eyes as he does so. So much help Google was at helping him self-diagnose (even though he knows it's probably one of the stupidest things he could do). He thinks about it for about two seconds before deciding that his "social anxiety" is a mere result of his stupid ability.

He's not afraid of judgement. He's not scared of talking to people. He is, however, afraid of what people might see him as if they knew he could see, hear, and speak to ghosts.

He's pretty sure that he'd be a lot more outgoing if he couldn't see and/or hear dead people. He wouldn't feel so jittery just from going out to get a fucking coffee. He could actually _drink_ coffee without having to worry about having an actual heart attack. He could do things that any average person who can't see ghosts could do.

He just wants to be _normal._

Part of him wishes that he could somehow summon Hongjoong, tell him that this isn't a good idea after all and that he would much rather stay indoors from now on, but at the same time, he knows that nothing is going to improve if he doesn't put himself out there. That Yunho will only continue to cry every night. That he will continue to mourn his friend's death without an outlet, and, as Hongjoong said, continue to "float through life" as a living ghost.

Mingi shudders. Somehow, he feels like he might as well be as dead as the spirits he sees considering he sort of lives like one.

He doesn't want _that_ , not for himself, not for Yunho either.

Social anxiety. The term rings in his head as he rests it on his pillow. He doesn't think he has it. Even if he did, would it matter that much? He's trying his best. He's making an effort. He's living day by day as someone who has to deal with the voices of the dead, the auras of the living, and his own school schedule kicking his ass. He thinks that's all that matters, that he's trying. After all, he's sure that that's really all people can do. Whether they fail or succeed can only be up to the universe.

He takes deep breaths as he tries to lull himself to sleep. He inhales through his nose for four seconds, holds for four more, and releases for a final four. He doesn't remember exactly where he learned that, but it helps when his head hurts or when his heart won't stop pounding. Perhaps it also helps with this "social anxiety."

He returns to breathing normally and finds himself wondering if Hongjoong's spirit breathes too.

-

**[San]**

_dude! ur not gonna believe this, wooyoung's eyes nearly popped out of his head when i said hi to him today_

**[Mingi]**

_oh god, pls dont tell me you gave him a heart attack_

**[San]**

_maybe a minor one, but at least i got his number ;)_

_told him i'd text him later_

_lets see if he texts me first tho_

**[Mingi]**

-_-

**[San]**

_love u! ;*_

Sometimes Mingi questions why he's friends with San in the first place and how he puts up with San's shenanigans as a roommate.

He shoves his phone back into his pocket and glances up at the sign above him. With Yunho in class and his own classes over for the day, he'd done some research into local shops for the spiritually tuned (or, in his case, a clairvoyant and a medium), and stumbled across a page for a tiny shop on a relatively vacant street near the campus run by an older woman who simply goes by "Hyeseong," no more, no less. As sketchy as it seems, at least it's secluded and no one can see him go in.

Sure enough, the shop is completely devoid of any customers, but as soon as he walks in, he can feel the energy around him shift into one of safety. He glances around, seeing various decorations dangling from the ceiling, crystals and jewels of all colors and even a few potted plants. He smells some incense, similar to the one he favors. The royal blue carpet is littered with star-like designs and symbols, ones he doesn't recognize, and the shop itself consists of shelves lined with all sorts of items, ranging from herbs and incense to crystals and spellbooks.

(He may be clairvoyant, but he doesn't fuck with witchcraft.)

"Good afternoon, mister," a voice says from apparently nowhere, and Mingi panics for a second, thinking he might be hearing another ghost again when a feeble-looking woman steps out from behind one of the shelves.

"Oh! Um, good afternoon, ma'am. Are you Hyeseong?"

The woman nods and bows, and Mingi mirrors her action. "Mm. No more, no less," she replies. "What is your name, son?"

"Song Mingi."

"Mingi... it is nice to meet you. I don't think I've seen you before," Hyeseong says as she smiles, her eyes practically vanishing behind wrinkles as she does.

"Oh, uh, yes. It's my first time here."

"Well, feel free to look around. Is there something in particular I can help you with? It seems like you have quite a lot on your mind."

Even though the shop is filled with peaceful energy, Mingi can still feel his hairs standing on end. Hyeseong isn't intimidating in the slightest. His mind travels back to the whole social anxiety thing. Is it really that noticeable? "I... um, no, I'm not looking for anything in particular."

"Mm." Hyeseong's hands are behind her back as she makes her way behind the counter, one that is a hybrid of a checkout counter and a glass case filled with jewelry on top of blue velvet shelves. She sits on a stool behind it, closing her eyes and nodding to herself. "Mingi... it seems you have quite some troubles. Would you like to tell me what's been bothering you?"

"Is it... is it that noticeable?" Mingi asks, swallowing his nervousness.

"On the outside, the way you present yourself is very tense, very nervous. But I can sense that there is a reason behind it all. You radiate a very distinct aura that few give off. Are you perhaps clairvoyant?"

Mingi shouldn't be surprised. After all, it _is_ a spiritual shop run by an old woman who must be clairvoyant herself. He nods. "Ah. I thought so," Hyeseong says. "It's written all over you, my dear. And I can tell that you are not particularly happy with the life you've been given."

"I-it's not that," Mingi says. "I, um, I'm a medium as well. I can see spirits. Sometimes I can talk to them."

"Oh? Now, that's quite rare for someone your age. I can imagine it being a very difficult thing to live with. May I ask to what degree you interact with these spirits? What do you experience?"

"Wherever I go, whether I see things or not, I can feel the energy of the dead," Mingi says, eyes flitting from object to object, his heart already starting to pick up speed. "Sometimes I can hear their voices, and it's just a really unpleasant thing to experience when I just want to go out and enjoy myself, you know? I want to be able to go out without being afraid that something is going to happen or that I'll hear the voices, or..." He stops himself, taking a deep breath as he attempts to recollect himself.

Hyeseong nods. "Continue, son."

"I just want to feel normal," Mingi admits defeatedly. "Like, I know that this isn't something that'll go away. I know I have to live with it. But... it's hard. I don't _want_ to keep on experiencing this. I'm on edge wherever I go, and a, um, friend of mine who doesn't know that I'm clairvoyant asked me if I had social anxiety."

"Do _you_ think you have social anxiety?" Hyeseong asks.

"It feels like I do sometimes," Mingi says. "Like, I get all nervous and shaky when I go out, but it's not like I'm afraid of being ridiculed by my peers or anything like that. What would I even call that?"

Hyeseong sighs and smiles in a comforting way, tranquility and generosity radiating off of her body. "My dear, putting a name to the things you experience is more detrimental than you think. Acceptance is more important than naming something. While I am no psychologist, what you are experiencing does not sound like a mental illness, but simply a wish to be normal and your body's way of trying to accept the abnormal."

Mingi can feel his shoulders relax at Hyeseong's gentle words. "I am not a medium, but a strong clairvoyant. So, I may not have the same experiences you've had, especially when it comes to the spirit realm. But my mother was a medium, and her abilities worked wonders," she continues.

"How?" Mingi asks curiously.

"She helped many families with grief over their loved ones. She contacted the deceased and sometimes put them to rest just by reaching out and talking to them about their families. She resolved conflicts, mediated the living, all while caring for a family of her own." Hyeseong looks down and smiles, her hand clutching the gold locket around her neck.

"I know that that's something a lot of mediums do, but—"

"But you don't want to do that. You don't want to have the ability to begin with," Hyeseong finishes for him, and he nods. "I understand. Not all mediums use their power in that way. Some don't use it at all. But dear Mingi, this is the life you've been given. This is the ability you've been born with. Whether you view it as a curse or a blessing, it is something that is part of you, and you cannot just get rid of it."

"I know."

Hyeseong hums, bowing her head slightly as she stands and retrieves a key from the pocket of her dress that she uses to open the glass case. She pulls out two small black jewelry boxes from the bottom shelf and places both on the counter with care. "I have these for you, my dear," she says, opening both boxes up with bony fingers. One contains a pair of silver earrings with pale blue stones at the centers, and the other holds a silver necklace in the shape of a sun with a jet black gem as its core. "Consider them a gift from me."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," Mingi protests, shaking his head. "I don't even have my ears pierced."

Hyeseong chuckles, her small frame shaking as she does. "Even if you don't, having these in your possession will help soothe your anxiety," she says, nudging the boxes in Mingi's direction.

"What are they?"

"The earrings are agate, and the necklace is onyx," Hyeseong explains, pointing to both as she does. "The agate is for your troubled mind. The onyx is for spiritual protection. Take them both, dear, free of charge."

Mingi's mouth falls agape, but he steps towards the front counter anyway and observes them closer. He has a collection of crystals that he's collected over the years in a small ceramic bowl back at the apartment, but they've all been ones he's ordered online, not gifted. He's not even entirely sure what they do, as he has a hard time keeping track of them and their effects.

Maybe that's why it took him _three weeks_ to banish the dark spirit from their apartment. He has no idea how the fuck to be a good medium.

Hyeseong places the covers back on the boxes and puts them in a small black plastic bag that she hands over to Mingi, a tender smile on her face as she parts with her gifts. Mingi can't help but feel a bit guilty, even though he knows he shouldn't. But he also feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude, especially after being sheltered for so long, not knowing anybody else who can understand him and the things he experiences.

It makes him feel less alone. Even if it is an old lady from a metaphysical store.

"Thank you very much," Mingi says, bowing his head.

"Of course, dear," Hyeseong replies, bowing hers as well. "If there is anything else you need, please stop by anytime."

Mingi has a strong feeling that he will definitely be coming back.

-

As soon as San walks through the front door of the apartment, his nose scrunches and he coughs a little too dramatically for Mingi's liking. "Dude, are you burning incense again? Thought you stopped that when you got rid of the bad juju in this place."

Mingi doesn't even spare a passing glance and only continues to type away at the essay on his laptop. "I felt inspired."

"To burn incense?"

"Yeah."

San scoffs and strides past him, dropping his bag beside the living room sofa. "Man, why do I have to live with someone who sees ghosts?"

"You know, 'normal' people burn incense too," Mingi says matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." San sniffs the air. "What scent is this?"

"Rose," Mingi mindlessly replies. "I have all sorts of scents, some I haven't tried before, and this was one of them. What, do you not like it?"

"I mean, I didn't say I didn't like it. I'm just not used to coming home to our apartment smelling like flowers," San says. "Anyways, you won't believe what happened today."

Mingi finally looks up from his laptop and quirks an eyebrow at his roommate. "Jung Wooyoung?"

San's face erupts in a grin as he nods excitedly. "He actually texted me first! I definitely wasn't expecting that, considering he seemed like a complete nervous wreck when I asked him for his number. _And_ I told him that I'd text him, so I thought he would wait for me to text me, but he texted me first!"

"Maybe he saw through your stupid mind games," Mingi mutters. "Seriously, I don't get why you're so caught up on who texted who first. At least you guys are texting now."

"Yup, _and_ we have a date this weekend!" San squeals into his hands as he hops up and down like someone who's just found out that their middle school crush likes them back (and while they may not be in middle school, it's basically the same thing). "So anyways, what did you get up to today?"

"Had some free time after class and Yunho was busy today, so I looked up spiritual shops around campus and visited one," Mingi says, reaching into his bag and pulling out the tiny black bag, the jewelry inside the boxes clattering as he does so. "The lady there could tell I was clairvoyant just from my energy. She gave me these." He opens the boxes, and San's face lights up, intrigued.

"Earrings? You don't even have your ears pierced," San comments snarkily, though his facial expression remains interested in the jewelry. "But hey, if you wanna get your ears pierced, I'll go with you. That would be so cool, honestly. Really makes a statement, you know? Or shows that you had a mental breakdown. Depends."

Mingi laughs as his friend's stupid remark, covering the boxes up again and packing them away. "Is that why you felt so inspired to burn incense?" San asks quite seriously.

Mingi nods admittedly. "It was like... I felt like I wasn't alone, being there. I mean, there were literally no customers, but the lady who runs the place, Hyeseong, seemed to understand where I was coming from. She really sympathized with me, I think. She even gave me the earrings and necklace as a gift. Didn't have to pay."

"Hyeseong, huh? Interesting name," San says. "If you go back there, ask her why she was named that. I bet there's some sort of profound story behind it."

"That's like... asking you why you were named San."

San's face falls flat. "Hey, I'll have you know there's a very profound story behind my father naming me and my sister."

Mingi sighs and shuts his laptop. "Save that story for another day. I think I've exhausted all of my social ability today." He stands up and grabs his laptop and backpack off the kitchen island and makes his way down the hallway to his bedroom, ignoring the sarcastic "goodnight to you too" on the way back to his sanctuary.

When he goes to the bathroom to shower, he stares at his reflection in the mirror for who knows how long, pulling at his earlobes and looking at them with consideration, a voice in his head telling him that maybe he _should_ pierce his ears, not as a symbol of rebellion or a mental breakdown, but as one of gratitude. Maybe even a new beginning. A way to put himself out there, to stand out from the rest.

He smirks to himself as he thinks of Hongjoong and his stupid fucking mullet, wondering if Hongjoong wanted to make a statement too. It makes him wonder more about his and Yunho's friendship, what Hongjoong _truly_ was to Yunho. In a way, Mingi feels guilty knowing that there's probably, no, _definitely_ no way Hongjoong could ever be replaced, but maybe, just maybe, he can try to make the pain just a little more bearable.

After all, he would give so much just to see Yunho's happiness, and if that means leaving his precious room and going places and talking to people and doing things that he'd never wanted to do before, then so be it.

Mingi will try. For Yunho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hyeseong means comet in korean!!! thank u google translate!!
> 
> also (don't quote me on this, i'm saying this from memory) apparently san has said that his father named him san and his sister haneul (meaning sky) and there was a really profound explanation and meaning behind it and i CANNOT remember what it was exactly sooo yeah. if anybody can tell me what interview/vlive/whatever video it might've been from, that would be great :)
> 
> also i do NOT hate the hongmullet lol don't come for me  
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)!


	3. talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i fucked up the last two chapters, saying at first that yunho lived alone in ch1 but then said wooyoung was his roommate ch2 alk;fjdsakjf sorry. that just goes to show how much i proofread my shit lol
> 
> but yeah anyways i changed it so that both wooyoung and jongho are yunho's coworkers. yunho DOES live alone.

It takes Mingi about three more days to remember the ice cream. When he does, he shoots up from the couch, startling San as the roommate yells after him for disrupting the bowl of popcorn squished between them. "Hey, you're vacuuming this shit up!"

Mingi retrieves the ice cream and a spoon, acknowledging San with a simple disgruntled noise. The ice cream is definitely harder than before but still scoopable, and Mingi feels very grateful that ice cream has a pretty long shelf life. If he hadn't remembered, he probably would at a random time a month or two down the road. Whatever the case, he's glad he remembered, sighing to himself happily as he plops back down on the couch next to San. His roommate is glaring at him, unbeknownst to him as he begins spooning the ice cream into his mouth.

"I hope you choke," San says.

"I will haunt you if I do," Mingi deadpans, devoid of any emotion.

San can't help but laugh at that, turning his attention back to the screen that's playing some cheesy horror movie that he may or may not be paying attention to. To be fair, San has had a lot of things on his mind lately, those things being Jung Wooyoung and how absolutely smitten he is, and he hasn't even been talking to him for a full week yet. Mingi thinks it's both endearing and annoying whenever San goes on about Wooyoung, but he has to admit, he's glad that San has found somebody who makes him so happy.

Mingi just wishes Yunho found somebody like that. It would make it easier on both of them; Yunho would have somebody to make him happy, and Mingi wouldn't have to feel so guilty knowing that he's only being a part of Yunho's life because of Hongjoong. As awful as it sounds, Mingi knows it's probably the truth. After all, he wouldn't even be talking to Yunho if it hadn't been for Hongjoong.

If Yunho does end up finding somebody like that, Mingi doesn't think he'd entirely mind. He'd be happy _for_ Yunho and probably retreat back into the safety of his bedroom, where he no longer has to go out and see Yunho or Hongjoong.

But he then realizes he still doesn't know the true reason behind Hongjoong's inability to pass on. Even if Yunho does find somebody who makes him happy, who's to say Hongjoong will move on? The spirit realm is finicky like that, unpredictable, and sometimes, the solution isn't always happiness, or whatever 'happiness' means. After all, Yunho _seems_ happy on the surface already, but according to Hongjoong, that is not happiness.

So in the end, Yunho is stuck with Mingi, as well as Hongjoong's lifeless soul following him around.

Mingi finishes about half the pint of ice cream before it starts to feel heavy in his stomach. He puts the cap back on and slides it back into the freezer, hoping that he'll remember it again like he had tonight.

-

Mingi starts wearing the pendant, and while it doesn't necessarily do anything to help the itchy feeling on his neck when he goes out, he feels some sort of protective aura around him, and he wonders if it's actually the stone or just the thought of Hyeseong giving it to him. He tries not to think about it too much, especially because he's still a bit skeptical of the energy of stones and gems, but it's still a generous gesture. Maybe she'd charged it with positive spiritual energy or something. That's a thing, right?

He's such a terrible excuse for a clairvoyant, but it's not like he wanted to be one in the first place.

It's not like anybody notices the necklace anyway, apart from San. Then again, nobody really speaks to him anyway. Basically, it's like nothing's changed, just that Mingi has gained a hardly noticeable accessory around his neck.

"If you're gonna get your ears pierced," San says to him one day, "don't wear the earrings and necklace at the same time. Kinda looks tacky, especially because they're not the same color."

"Personally, I'd think multiple pieces of jewelry that are the same color would look even tackier," Mingi says.

San breaks out into a grin. "Mingi-yah, you're sounding gayer by the day."

"Oh, shut up."

"Besides, you wouldn't be able to wear the earrings right away. You have to wear your starter earrings for a while until your ears heal, _then_ you can wear the earrings the special spirit lady gave you," San says as he fiddles with the box of earrings. He's been trying to get Mingi to pierce his ears for a few days now, and while Mingi doesn't think it's an awful idea, he refuses to admit he's actually quite scared to do it. San always rolls his eyes and motions at his own earrings. "If I can do it, you can do it," he'll say.

Mingi _can_ do it. He's pretty sure he can, if he gets past the initial fear of the pain and having to take care of it afterwards. They're both standing in their tiny apartment bathroom staring at their reflections in the mirror. Mingi can't take his eyes off his earlobes, trying to picture two gemstones on them but failing. He frowns. "I just can't picture it," he says to San, who frowns with him.

"Oh, fuck off," San says. "Just do it, and if you don't like them, you can take them out. It's not like you're getting your dick pierced or anything like that."

Mingi visibly cringes at the thought of a sharp object piercing the tip of his dick. "People seriously do that?"

"Apparently it's for the pleasure of whoever the dick is going into," San informs him, completely straight-faced, and it honestly concerns Mingi that his roommate could have a secret dick piercing and he doesn't even know. "But that's just what I've heard."

San tends to hear a lot of things, Mingi thinks.

"If I could pierce my nose, tongue, and nipples without it hindering my ability to get a stable job in this country, I would," San says, and Mingi thinks he has a point.

"You'd pierce your nipples?" he questions in disbelief, but then he realizes it's San he's talking to.

"Hell yeah! Everyone should pierce their nipples when they're young. Just one big pierced nipple party." San is smiling way too widely for such a topic. Mingi just sighs, shakes his head, and exits the bathroom without a word. "Hey!"

"You pierce your nipples and I'll just continue debating on whether I should pierce my ears or not," Mingi says.

"Yeah, and by the time you get your ears pierced, my soul will be yelling at you from beyond."

Mingi throws one of their living room pillows at him.

-

After a few days more of wearing the necklace, Mingi starts to feel like maybe stones do hold some sort of energy. While he's normally on edge when he goes out, he's been feeling much calmer since Hyeseong left him with the necklace and earrings, which he keeps safely tucked away in his backpack until he decides to pierce his ears, if ever. If he's being honest, there's still some residual apprehension whenever he goes out, mostly out of fear that the necklace will somehow stop working and he'll go back to feeling the spiritual energy wherever he goes, but he tries not to think about it too much.

With Yunho, it's a whole other ball game. Mingi still can't help but feel nervous whenever he talks to him, afraid that maybe he'll slip up and say something _too_ morbid that would scare Yunho away, and then Hongjoong would be left on the earth plane without anybody to help him. Or that Mingi will somehow out himself by mentioning that he can see ghosts and scare Yunho away in that aspect. He feels that he'll tell Yunho eventually, but the fact that he's actually seeing one around Yunho who just so happens to be his dead best friend sort of deters him from telling Yunho the truth.

Meanwhile, things with San and Wooyoung seem to be going well. San still likes to ramble on about how cute Wooyoung is, and one day, he tells Mingi that they have a date Friday night, which would leave Mingi alone in his apartment on a Friday night. While Mingi has spent plenty of Friday nights in, he still can't help but feel how sad that is. College students should be going out on weekend nights and having fun, right? Partying and getting drunk and just _doing_ stuff besides staying inside and watching movies alone. It's sad. Mingi feels like his life should be a little more exciting.

It's as if San can see the disappointment on Mingi's face when he announces he's going on a date with Wooyoung. His facial expression deflates as he looks at Mingi pitifully, crossing his arms. "You know, you could go out too. Don't know where, just... not here. I mean, it seems like you've been a little more, like, positive lately."

Mingi chuckles as he cradles the necklace in his hand. "Think it might be because of this."

Even though San believes in Mingi's ability to see and hear the dead, he's always been skeptical of the incense and crystals and things along those lines. He raises an eyebrow, looking at the necklace. "Look," Mingi says, "I've been feeling better going to classes and stuff. The energy I feel hasn't been as strong, and Hyeseong said that this stone, onyx, is supposed to help with spiritual protection. So, there's a possibility that it _is_ this necklace."

San sighs, eyebrows shrugging. "Well, whatever gets you by. Look, I gotta go. If you're going out, just try not to, y'know, have a panic attack."

"Thanks, that helps a lot," Mingi deadpans, thinking of throwing a pencil at him.

San remains standing in the entrance to his room for several more seconds before he speaks up again. "Mingi-yah, I'm proud of you. I hope you know that. I know it isn't easy for you to go out, and even if you end up not going out tonight, just know that I'm still proud of you for leaving the apartment just to go to class."

Mingi smiles at San and his sudden sentimental remark, but thanks him nonetheless. San leaves him with one last smile, alone in his cramped apartment bedroom.

He sighs to himself, narrowing his eyes at the laptop screen glaring back at him with pages of text that may or may not be one of his essays; he doesn't really know. He's pretty sure the document has been opened up for the past two hours completely untouched, but he's just been so lost in himself that he just forgot to exit out of it. The more he stares at, the more he scowls, and eventually, he just rubs his strained eyeballs and shuts the laptop.

Maybe he really should go out. Though San isn't necessarily the most persuasive person, he does make _some_ good points. Mingi truly appreciates the effort San puts into trying to get him to leave the place, and what's the point if his efforts are for naught? Maybe it's unintentional guilt tripping, but it's working. Mingi stands up, his phone tucked away in his pocket as he grabs his wallet and keys, slips on his shoes, and leaves the apartment without a destination in mind.

There are actually a few places he could go. There's the café that surprisingly has pretty good hot chocolate, Hyeseong's shop, or, if Mingi wants to be a creep, the grocery store. He's not entirely sure if Yunho would even be there, but it could be worth a shot. He wonders how Yunho would react to him just popping in; maybe he'd be weirded out, maybe he'd be pleasantly surprised. Mingi doesn't know for sure. But he's bored out of his mind, and maybe Yunho _is_ there and he supposes there's nothing wrong with surprising a friend at work.

He takes one of the campus's taxis there, feeling his nerves resurfacing as he exits the car. Much like how it's been the past week, he's not nervous because of the spirits, but of the living. The grocery store's parking lot is fairly deserted, as he feels like it is most of the time, but that doesn't stop his heart from racing as he walks past the sliding doors and into the store filled with scents of ripe fruits and plastic.

If Yunho isn't here, he's going to look really stupid.

Well, now that he's here, he might as well get something. He thinks it would be pretty shitty if he didn't.

Taking a deep breath, Mingi wanders back to the aisle where the ice cream lies, feeling a wave of nostalgia even though it hadn't even happened that long ago. Neither Yunho nor Hongjoong are there this time, but at least his ice cream is. He browses the shelves, thinking that maybe he should try a new flavor or something because as much as he loves triple cookie blast, he wants to try something different. After all, getting out of the apartment is pretty different, so why stop there?

He kneels to get a good look at the ice cream on the bottom shelves when he feels a familiar shiver on the back of his neck and hears a soft, "Mingi-ssi?"

Mingi nearly jumps out of his fucking shoes. He has to contain the surprised yelp that threatens to leave his mouth. He whips around to see Hongjoong standing there, soul and all, dressed the exact same way as before since ghosts don't change clothes. He looks just as surprised to see Mingi, just not as scared. "What are you doing here?" the shorter of the two asks.

Remembering that Hongjoong can't be seen, Mingi turns back around to look at the shelves of ice cream. "I was bored because my roommate left, and I figured going out would be better than staying in on a Friday night."

"Didn't think I'd see you _here_ again, though," Hongjoong says. "Yunho's working. You sure that isn't the reason you came here?" He asks the last part suggestively, like he _knows._

"W-well, I didn't come here entirely sure he was working. I guess I just came here on a whim," Mingi whispers back.

"Mhm," Hongjoong drawls, a smirk playing on his face. "Well, he's working, and he's coming down this aisle soon."

"Wait, what?" Mingi whirls back around, and sure enough, Yunho is heading down the aisle pushing an empty trolley. As soon as he sees Mingi, his face reads confusion before it lights up in a smile.

"Oh, Mingi-yah! What are you doing here?" His smile is infectious, Mingi thinks, and he can't help but smile back.

"San's on a date with Wooyoung, so I figured I'd step out of the house for a bit, and, well, here I am."

"Came to surprise me, perhaps?" Yunho asks with a smirk.

Feeling San's influence, Mingi returns the smirk. "What if I did?"

For a moment, Yunho seems taken aback but continues to smile. "Then consider me pleasantly surprised." Both of them laugh at that, but Mingi basks in the glorious sound of Yunho's laughter, wanting nothing more than to hear it on repeat. It makes him think of Hongjoong, who seems to have disappeared, wondering if Yunho laughed a lot more with him.

"Well, my shift ends in a few. If you wanna hang out then, we can go somewhere and get ice cream that doesn't come in a pint," Yunho says, a few chuckles still spilling from his mouth. "I know a good place close to campus that has really good homemade ice cream."

"You know, I might take you up on that offer," Mingi says. "I don't know if I've ever had homemade ice cream."

Yunho's eyes nearly bug out of his head. "Are you serious?"

Mingi shrugs. Maybe he has and doesn't remember it, or wasn't aware it was homemade. "Well, wait a few minutes until my shift is over, and then we can go. Sound good?" Mingi nods, maybe too enthusiastically, but Yunho just smiles again, that angelic smile, and he can't help but feel a little less anxious.

He supposes that maybe Yunho just has that effect on people.

-

The ice cream place is another one of those spots that Mingi had no idea existed because he doesn't leave the apartment. It's a cute little shop close to the edge of campus, about a ten minute drive from the grocery store. There's a little bell hanging from the front entrance that chimes as they walk in. There are a few customers sitting at the tables off to the side, but for the most part, it's pretty quiet and very homey.

Mingi learns directly from Yunho that he's an 'equal opportunist' and likes to give everything a try. Though he says he doesn't come here often, he always picks a different flavor whenever he does. This time around, he chooses some sort of cookie-dough-cotton-candy hybrid flavor, which makes Mingi raise an eyebrow at him, though he just shrugs in response. It's not that Mingi doesn't like cotton candy ice cream, he just doesn't think the two should mix. He settles for cookies and cream but loads on the toppings.

"Next time we come here, you have to get something more exciting. Like, come on, they have so many unique flavors!" Yunho says, motioning to an entire section of the freezer where there's basically a rainbow of ice cream flavors, one of which is Yunho's choice.

"Hey, I barely leave the house. This is a good start for me," Mingi defends himself, feigning hurt.

Yunho just smiles and shakes his head. "Whatever you say."

It's during this whole exchange when Mingi realizes that Yunho is paying for the whole thing. He'd been so caught up in looking at the wacky ice cream flavors and adding as many toppings as humanly possible that he didn't realize Yunho was getting his wallet out to pay for it. Mingi watches in disbelief, but waits until after it's done to say something.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," Mingi whispers, feeling oddly guilty.

Yunho smiles _again_ and shrugs. "I wanted to."

They have a seat at one of the tables in the corner, away from the other patrons. Though it's cold, understandably so, Mingi doesn't feel any sort of spiritual energy. He's glancing around the place, actually _trying_ to sense something, but there's nothing. Of course, if Hongjoong were to appear, he's sure he'd feel it. But for now, it's just Yunho, a living, breathing person.

And for once, Mingi feels comfortable.

"That's a nice necklace," Yunho says all of a sudden, pointing at the pendant around Mingi's neck. "I've never seen you wear that before."

"Oh, yeah, this," Mingi says, grabbing it. "It was a gift I got about a week ago."

"It's nice. Suits you."

Mingi feels his gut swirl at the compliment as he mumbles a thank you. He's surprised Yunho even noticed it. "Question," he brings up suddenly, remembering his conversations with San, "what do you think I'd look like with pierced ears?"

Yunho just stares him dead in the eyes, the corners of his lips twitching, and says, "You'd look like yourself but with pierced ears."

Mingi can't help the burst of laughter that shoots out from his mouth. Yunho laughs along too, both trying not to choke on their ice cream. "But seriously, I think it would look good," Yunho chirps through the laughter. "Kind of makes a statement, you know?"

"That's what San said," Mingi says, still coming down from the laughter.

"Great minds think alike." Yunho smirks, pointing at his head. "But yeah, I mean, if you wanna pierce your ears, do it. I fully support your decision. I personally probably wouldn't, so I'll just live vicariously through you."

"Why wouldn't you do it?" Mingi asks.

"Just..."

Mingi notices a shift in his tone and facial expression, and it's not a positive one. "S-sorry," he chokes out, lowering his head even though Yunho hasn't even said anything.

"No, it's fine! Um, it's not that I'm afraid of the pain or anything. I actually have a pretty good pain tolerance. Just, uh, it reminds me a lot of my old friend. He had a lot of piercings."

Knowing that he's referring to Hongjoong, Mingi realizes that yes, Hongjoong does appear to have several ear piercings. Though it never really stood out to Mingi, he's certain it will now. "He'd get super excited whenever he'd get a new one. He'd go on about how freeing it is and all that. And while I agree with him... I just, I don't know. I don't think I could pull it off as well as he did."

Mingi hates that Yunho is using past tense, but he's not wrong. Although Mingi can see his spirit, Hongjoong is _dead._ Yunho is fully aware of this. He's not in denial, but he is in that stage where everything seems to remind him of Hongjoong.

While Mingi doesn't know the exact stages of grief, he's sure that if one exists where someone can't stop associating certain things with their deceased loved ones, then that stage would never pass. He imagines Yunho must see and hear a lot of things that remind him of Hongjoong and is just really good at containing it.

He imagines it must be a very painful way to live.

And, as if the gods hate Mingi that much, Hongjoong just happens to manifest beside Yunho, sitting criss-crossed on the ground. Thankfully, Yunho is glancing down at his ice cream when Mingi's eyes lock on Hongjoong, who jerks his head in Yunho's direction, silently motioning for him to look away. "Did I tell you about him?" Yunho asks, voice quiet.

"Y-yeah, you mentioned him before. Hongjoong, right?" Hongjoong's eyes widen, his mouth dropping open as he looks up at his old best friend.

Yunho nods. "You don't have to... talk about him, i-if you don't want to," Mingi offers hurriedly. "I get it can be hard—"

"No, it's okay," Yunho interjects. Even though he's frowning, he still looks so soft, so vulnerable, and Mingi wants nothing more than to hug him. "I've never really talked about him in detail to anybody, but... I feel like I can trust you. N-not that me talking about him requires me to trust someone so strongly, but, like, I don't know. I feel like you should know about him."

Mingi can't help but think of the irony because his dead best friend is literally sitting on the ground beside him. "W-well, if it gets to be too much at any point, you don't have to keep talking about him," Mingi says.

"Thank you." Yunho takes a deep breath, smiling fondly. "Well, his name was Kim Hongjoong. He was my best friend since high school."

As Yunho begins his story, Hongjoong's shoulders visibly tense, brows furrowing in either concentration or sorrow. "He was twenty-two when he died in a car accident a few months ago. He'd been the one driving, so it really hit him hard. A, um, drunk driver hit him."

"Ah." Mingi quickly glances down at Hongjoong, who appears to be listening contently, head slightly tilted.

"According to the news, there was another person in the drunk driver's car. The driver died along with Hongjoong, but the passenger lived. I guess the passenger was his brother."

Hongjoong suddenly stands up. "So that's what happened," he murmurs to himself. Did Hongjoong himself really not know what happened? Mingi vaguely remembers him saying he didn't know what happened when he died. This really must be the first time he's heard of this.

Maybe the first time Yunho's ever spoken of it.

"I don't hold any resentment towards either of them," Yunho says, though his face has completely fallen. Though there is no visible anger, there is undeniable sorrow and guilt. "After all, the passenger lost his brother and is still alive. He has to live with the fact that his brother is dead."

Mingi nods to show that he's listening, even if Yunho isn't looking at him. Hongjoong places a small hand on his shoulder that barely fits around it. Mingi knows Hongjoong is short, but he looks even smaller next to his best friend. "Part of me wishes I could meet the guy. I don't know anything about the driver who hit Hongjoong or the brother. The news... didn't really do either of them justice. It was just kind of like 'oh yeah, a car accident happened.' Didn't even show their pictures. I guess... if I'm angry about anything, it's that."

"That Hongjoong didn't get more notoriety?" Mingi questions.

"That the whole accident was just shoved under a rock after it happened. People saw it as no big deal except for me and Hongjoong's family, and I imagine the drunk driver's family too. You'd think that the whole thing would've gotten more news coverage, but—" Yunho pauses to take a breath.

From beside him, Hongjoong sighs. "You'd think he'd know me better."

Mingi glances at him questioningly while Yunho is still looking away. "I don't care that the accident didn't get coverage. It's not like I put myself out there anyway, so why would he think I wanted that? Like, I can kind of see where he's coming from, but... it honestly sounds like he wanted other people to feel the same way he does," Hongjoong continues, almost sounding disappointed, which definitely catches Mingi off guard.

"Do you... do you think Hongjoong would have wanted that?"

Yunho looks up as Hongjoong sits back down on the ground, seemingly intrigued by Mingi's question. "What?"

"Do you think Hongjoong would have wanted the accident to get more coverage?"

Appearing surprised by Mingi's question, Yunho almost reels back, face riddled with confusion. "I... I don't know," he mumbles.

"It hurt a lot, losing Hongjoong like that," Mingi states as the complete truth. "But why, like really _why_ , did you want the story to get more coverage?"

"I-I don't... I didn't..." Yunho exhales, his eyes fully closing. Mingi takes the opportunity to look at Hongjoong, who's watching the scene unfold with rapt attention and an unreadable expression. "I guess, maybe, so that people would learn not to drive drunk. Two people lost their lives, and _we_ are the ones feeling the pain."

"Do you want others to share your pain?" Mingi asks.

Yunho swallows thickly, his eyes still closed. "I wouldn't wish this pain on anybody."

"Then why would you want the story to get more coverage? There are always going to be stupid people who drink and drive. I swear to God, Yunho-yah, sometimes you make no sense," Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head.

Attempting to ignore the spirit, Mingi watches Yunho, who is evidently trying to hold back tears. "I don't know, Mingi-yah. I don't know anything anymore. I'm sorry if I'm not making any sense. Sometimes... sometimes everything just gets so jumbled up in here." Yunho points at his forehead.

"Trust me, I know how that feels. You don't need to apologize for it." Mingi watches the ice cream in Yunho's cup slowly melt, knowing damn well that he doesn't know how a death feels, but he _does_ know what it feels like to live constantly plagued by thoughts that don't entirely make sense.

He wishes there was more he could do for Yunho.

"I understand that you're still hurting," Mingi says, "but more people knowing about the story isn't going to... it isn't going to take away your hurt, Yunho. Sympathy doesn't heal wounds like that." Hongjoong nods off to the side, turning to Mingi and smiling.

Yunho keeps his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as he tries to keep his composure. When he finally opens his eyes, they're glassy with unspilled tears, but not a single one falls. He swiftly wipes them away, however, sniffles, and turns back to his ice cream. He chuckles, shaking his head. "You know, Mingi-yah," he says with a mouthful of softened ice cream, "you've got a way with words."

Taken aback by the complete one-eighty, Mingi keeps his eyes focused on his own ice cream, trying to ignore the approving nod Hongjoong is giving him off to the side. "I appreciate it. A lot. Thank you," Yunho says, and Mingi expects him to throw in a 'but,' but he never does. Instead, he chips away at his cotton candy cookie dough ice cream, acting as if nothing is wrong, but Mingi doesn't feel that way, not one bit. He eats his ice cream slowly, his appetite beginning to leave him as he keeps thinking about the image of Yunho on the verge of tears.

Mingi knows it's going to take a _lot_ more than that for both Yunho and Hongjoong to move along, but he supposes it's a start.

-

Yunho's apartment isn't much different from Mingi's, small and simple, but it appears to be bigger than his somehow, even though it's only housing on person. According to Yunho, he's been considering asking his coworker Wooyoung to be his roommate as Wooyoung also lives alone, but isn't certain yet. "We get along well," Yunho says, "but I don't know. I don't know if he's roommate worthy yet."

"You can have San," Mingi jokes, making Yunho laugh.

"Speaking of which, how is he? Are he and Wooyoung doing well? Haven't heard Wooyoung talk that much about him."

"From what I gather, it's going well. San never shuts up about him, though."

Yunho smirks, arching an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, I assume things are going well since they're literally on a date as we speak. Good for them, honestly."

Mingi nods in agreement. "What about you, Mingi-yah?" Yunho inquires. "Have you been seeing anyone?"

"No. Come on, me? You know I barely leave the apartment."

"Well, you left it tonight." Yunho raises a good point, but it's not going to help Mingi anywhere in the romance department.

"True, but I haven't really talked to anyone except you and, well, San."

"I mean, you never know. One day you could just be out and about and a special lady will come your way and steal your heart. Or... man. Or whoever."

Mingi chuckles. "Nah, I doubt it. I'm just kinda... there. There's nothing really special about me."

Besides the whole contacting spirits thing but that's besides the point.

"Oh, shut up. I'm sure there are a lot of special things about you," Yunho says, and Mingi can't lie, it kind of makes his heart flutter. "Here. Tell me one interesting thing about you."

"I feel like this is some middle school girl sleepover or something," Mingi says, prompting Yunho to punch him in the arm.

"Seriously, Mingi-ssi. What is one interesting thing about you?"

Mingi's lips curve up into a smile as his mind thinks about Hongjoong again. He hasn't seen him since they left the ice cream shop. From what he can tell already, he can see how the two were best friends. Hongjoong thoughtfully scolding him from beyond. It makes Mingi think about what kind of friend he truly was when he was alive.

He's tempted to tell Yunho the truth. Perhaps, if Mingi wasn't already in contact with one of Yunho's deceased loved ones, he would tell him the truth. But Yunho had nearly broken down over the loss of his best friend, in front of him, and Mingi doesn't think telling Yunho that he can see dead people is the best thing at the moment, or, like, ever.

Mingi doesn't know for himself, but he imagines that losing a loved one would incite someone to do or say some things that might not be ideal. In this case, if he were to confess to Yunho that he's been seeing Hongjoong, he might freak out, leave Mingi, and never speak to him again. Or, he could ask Mingi to try to contact Hongjoong, and if he does, Yunho will freak out and never speak to him again. _Or_ , if he confesses to Yunho that he can contact the dead but can't contact Hongjoong, then there's still the possibility of Yunho freaking out and never speaking to Mingi again.

Mingi doesn't know if it's the pessimist in his brain that's telling him that Yunho is going to freak out and leave him in all scenarios, but it sounds pretty close to the truth.

"Um... I really don't know," Mingi lies, knowing well that there _is_ something interesting about him.

Yunho pouts, _pouts_ , and Mingi swears to God if Yunho keeps looking at him with puppy eyes, the guilt will just flood out of him and he'll confess. Mingi wonders if Yunho is aware of his own secret weapon that would probably make everyone drop what they're doing and cave into whatever he wants. "Well," Yunho says, "let me ask you something else then. What's your major?"

"I'm undecided, but I like psychology and think it's pretty interesting, so I'll probably end up doing that."

Yunho remains pouting as he nods understandingly. "Psychology is pretty interesting, I'll give you that. I'm majoring in journalism, which, I know isn't the best major since there's not much you can do with a degree in it, but it's what I enjoy. I figured I'd give it a shot."

"That's good, that you're doing something you like," Mingi says.

"Yeah, it... it makes things a little easier sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Mingi doesn't like the way this conversation is potentially going to end up. And to top it off, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Hongjoong approaching them. Mingi tries not to watch as Hongjoong sits down on the sofa's ottoman, but he can't help but notice the way the furniture doesn't dip under Hongjoong. Of course it wouldn't, since Hongjoong isn't really _there_ , but it's still something Mingi has never seen before, and he's never imagined a person sitting without weighing the furniture down.

He suppresses a shiver.

"I'm in a creative writing class. Sometimes, I like to write pieces that just help me get my mind off of things. They're pretty vague so people don't read into them that much, but according to my professor I have a way with words. So I get good grades on the things I write, even if... they're about Hongjoong."

Hongjoong's shoulders tense up. "I've never seen him write those things about me. I wonder what he writes about, exactly," he wonders aloud despite Yunho not being able to hear him.

"What exactly do you write about him?" Mingi asks, quickly revising, "A-and you don't have to talk about it, if it makes you uncomfortable."

Yunho smiles sadly and shakes his head. "No, Mingi-yah. I think... I think after all this time, maybe I _should_ talk about him. I haven't exactly had anyone else to talk to, and, well, I feel like I can trust you, like I said before."

"If you want to," Mingi says.

Yunho inhales deeply, and Mingi can see Hongjoong watching him attentively, sitting up poised in on the ottoman that still remains unperturbed. "I write poems. Sometimes short stories. But I never explicitly state any names or that any characters were in an accident or anything like that. I guess they're more about the feelings that _I_ experience. Stuff that sounds relatable, because I feel everyone feels guilt at some point in their lifetime."

"Why would you feel guilty, Yunho-yah?" Hongjoong asks, putting a hand on Yunho's shoulder. Mingi's eyes widen slightly, seeing that Yunho's shirt is also unbothered by Hongjoong's touch, and that Yunho doesn't react in the slightest.

Recollecting himself, he asks the same question Hongjoong asked, and the spirit turns towards him, eyeing him curiously.

"I guess... I guess I feel like it should have been me." Yunho fixes his gaze on his hands, clasped in his lap. "It should have been me who died, not Hongjoong."

"Oh, Yunho," Hongjoong sighs, mirroring Yunho's actions. "That's not true. It wasn't your time, it was mine. Saying stuff like that isn't going to turn back the clock and make me live."

Hearing Hongjoong talking to Yunho like this makes Mingi wonder if he does it. If Hongjoong talks to Yunho on a regular basis despite the living not being able to hear the dead. But from what Mingi knows, Hongjoong had always been unaware of Yunho's feelings because he's never opened up. Mingi imagines Yunho talking to him like this must be relieving, but extremely overwhelming.

And now, the truth is out there, and Hongjoong is hearing all of it.

"I swear, sometimes you're so goddamn selfish." Hongjoong chuckles, shaking his head. With his hand still on Yunho's shoulder, he lowers his head, resting it over his hand.

Mingi wonders what Yunho would say to the words Hongjoong is telling him right now. He's obviously not going to repeat them, but he still wonders. Would Yunho be angry? Offended? Hongjoong calling him selfish like that... is he really?

There's no way Yunho is selfish; Mingi can't see it at all, but maybe in this instance, plagued by grief and guilt, he is. Mingi agrees with Hongjoong. Time can't be reversed, and Yunho can't go back and save Hongjoong's life. Dying for Hongjoong wouldn't bring him back to life.

"I know... I know Hongjoong would want me to live."

"I do, Yunho," Hongjoong mumbles, head still on Yunho's shoulder.

"But sometimes, it's just too much. I always wonder, if I died, would I be with Hongjoong again?"

Hongjoong shakes his head, Yunho's shirt still untouched. "It doesn't work like that, Yunho."

"I don't think... well, I don't _know_ if the spirit realm works like that," Mingi says honestly.

Yunho looks up at him, a single eyebrow arched up. "Spirit realm?"

Well, fuck. "I-I mean, you know, the afterlife. No one really knows where you go when you die. If you die, say, a week from now, who's to say you will be with Hongjoong again? It's too uncertain."

Yunho sighs, though he nods. "I know. I've thought about it all, all the things to try to stop me from thinking that it should've been me. Everything you could possibly say, I've thought about. I've tried to put that thought away, because I _know_ Hongjoong wouldn't want me to die. He would want me to live, do what he couldn't. But there's still that nagging feeling, this _thing_ in my head that's constantly telling me that it should've been me. Because I know very well that Hongjoong wanted to live—"

"We all do—"

"—and me, well, it's not that I wanted to _die_ , but he always had potential. He was going places—"

"—you are too, Yunho-yah—"

"—and sure, even though he was introverted, he was _talented._ He was special. Me, I'm just some ordinary dude who's working two jobs to get by. Hongjoong-hyung had shit to do. He knew what he wanted to do. And now, he _can't._ "

And with that, Mingi witnesses Yunho break. The one thing he hoped to never see. His shoulders tremble with his sobs, with Hongjoong's hand present, but his hand doesn't move. It's not shaken by Yunho's movement, and it's a strange sight to see, almost like it's resting on nothing. In fact, Mingi swears he can see translucence where Hongjoong's hand meet Yunho's shoulder, almost like something out of a movie.

There are a lot of things Mingi wants to say, but like Yunho said, he's thought of it all, and Mingi can't think of a single thing to say to console his friend. Friend. When he thinks about it, maybe Yunho _does_ consider him a friend. He never thought it was possible, for anybody to be his friend, but here Yunho is, vulnerable, in front of someone he _trusts._ Someone he must consider a friend.

Mingi feels like a pretty shitty friend.

While Yunho's face is buried in his hands, Hongjoong finally raises his head. He's not breathing, not that Mingi can see, but it makes sense for someone who's dead to not breathe. He sighs, however, and looks at Yunho, hurt filling his eyes. "Yunho-yah... you have so much more to live for than you know. You were the source of my happiness. You kept me going. You made so many people happy, including me. I don't... I don't want to see you like this. You need to live. For me, for others... for _yourself_ , Yunho-yah. What happened couldn't have been prevented."

Mingi nods in agreement. "Without you, I don't know where I would've gone. I needed you more than you think." Hongjoong pauses to chuckle. "You know, you were the inspiration for some of my songs. It's weird, now, that I'm the inspiration for your writing."

So Hongjoong must have been a songwriter. "The future is always uncertain. For all I know, I could've completely failed as a musician, but you kept me going, Yunho-yah." Sliding down off of the ottoman, Hongjoong moves his hand from Yunho's shoulder to his knee. "You filled my life with positivity. And now—" He pauses and turns to Mingi, who stares back at him in bewilderment, "—you need to live for others." He smiles, nodding as if to signal something.

"Yunho," Mingi says, "do you think you were important to Hongjoong?"

Yunho looks up from his hands, Hongjoong's eyes following him. "What?"

"Hongjoong was clearly important to you," Mingi says. "Do you think Hongjoong felt the same way?"

"Uh... yes? I don't know, I've never been asked that."

"What did Hongjoong do for a living? You said that he was talented."

Yunho nods. "Yeah, he was a songwriter. Produced a couple of his own songs, but never really shared them. Why?"

"Well, I imagine the life of a songwriter isn't easy. It's a tough industry, and you never know if you'll make it," Mingi says, eyes briefly brushing over Hongjoong, who's smiling at him with what he thinks is pride. "Do you ever think... that maybe Hongjoong needed you? That you were just as important to him as he was to you?"

Yunho's face transforms into one of confusion, his tears slowing as he ponders the question. Hongjoong is looking up at him, almost expectantly, awaiting an answer. Finally, after several seconds, he shrugs. "I don't know. We were best friends, sure, but... I don't know. Sometimes I felt like more of an annoyance since I was always dragging him to stuff he didn't want to go to, but I just hated seeing him so secluded and obsessed with his work. Like, I get work is important, but so is going out, having fun, taking time for yourself, you know?"

Mingi can't help but find it ironic. How he's left his apartment more than he's ever done in the past year he's attended university to do more than just go to class. How his ability has somehow helped him acquire a new friend, even if it might have been against his will. How it's all accredited to Yunho, the source of energy and positivity in Mingi's life apart from San, and how it had been that way for Hongjoong as well.

Yunho truly doesn't know that people need him. That people want him around. Even his deceased friend.

"I _did_ have fun with you, Yunho-yah," Hongjoong says. "You were the only thing that could get me off of my workaholic ass. If anything, I should be grateful to you that my back didn't give out."

Mingi has to hold back a smile. "Well, I mean, it sounds like you really were important to him. It's like you said, working is important, but so is having a social life sometimes," he says, sounding surprisingly lighthearted despite the scene displayed before him. "I mean, I haven't known you for that long, but you managed to get me to leave the apartment more times than I've ever left this past year for things that weren't classes. You just... have that effect, I guess."

A sliver of a laugh slips past Yunho's lips. "And I'm sure it was the same for Hongjoong as well," Mingi continues, Hongjoong watching him with a smile. "I don't think he saw you as an annoyance at all. I know I sure don't. And you were the one who said I remind you of him, so."

Seeing Yunho's eyes light up through the tears is some sort of magical, Mingi thinks. Internally, he's really glad Yunho didn't take his comment offensively or anything like that; rather, he's _smiling_ , and while it's not the cheerful Mingi may be used to, it's something, some sort of joy shining through the sorrow, and it's just as beautiful. "You were just as important to Hongjoong as Hongjoong was to you," Mingi tells him. "Now, imagine how Hongjoong would feel if he were to see you like this. He'd be heartbroken don't you think?"

Yunho's smile disappears, but the bits of joy do not. He nods thoughtfully. "I know you said you've thought about a lot of things, but I'm sure there's more to it than Hongjoong not wanting you to die. I think it goes much deeper than that."

And Mingi can definitely see now, Hongjoong is grinning at him with pride.

All the while, Yunho has his eyes locked on Mingi's, gratitude filling him to the brim. His smile appears once again, through the tears, those perfectly cupid's bow-shaped lips, looking at him with something Mingi has never seen before. Granted, he hasn't really had that many people in his life, but he sure is glad Yunho is.

"Thank you, Mingi," he says. Hongjoong looks at his old friend, turns back to Mingi, and smiles as if to concur.

Mingi's chest twists with a bittersweet sense of bliss, wanting nothing more than for Yunho to keep smiling, whether it be from happiness or laughter or anything in between. Even through tears and hardships, if Yunho smiles through it, Mingi will be content.

Hongjoong cannot be replaced, cannot be forgotten. Mingi knows this to be certain. But he will try his damned hardest, he will leave the apartment as many times as he has to, if that means he can make Yunho smile with his whole heart, with his whole being.

He knows Hongjoong would want the same.

-

Mingi is exhausted by the time he gets home, and to his surprise, San is already in. There's no sign of Wooyoung, and Mingi finds it a bit peculiar considering San can be a bit... forward with his desires. Mingi is relieved, though; at least it'll save his eyes from wanting to be burned out of their sockets.

"Hey! You left the apartment!" San exclaims, quickly standing from the sofa.

"I did," Mingi chuckles, throwing his keys on the kitchen island and kicking off his shoes. "Went to the grocery store."

"Oh?" San quirks an eyebrow, grinning mischievously. "What were you doing there?"

Mingi figures there's no use in trying to fool his surprisingly perceptive roommate. "Went there with sort of the expectation that I'd see Yunho, and sure enough, I did."

San's entire face perks up. "Oh my god, you didn't!"

"I did."

"Holy shit!" San bounces over to Mingi's side, immediately tugging him down to sit at the kitchen island. He slides into the seat next to him, his goofy smile and curious eyes boring into Mingi. "So, what happened? How did it go? Did you two fuck?'

Confused and slightly disturbed, Mingi shook his head vigorously. "What, no! I don't even... no!"

San rolls his eyes. "Fine, what did you two do then?"

"His shift ended and we went to get ice cream."

"Ooh, a date!" San coos. "We could've had a double date!"

"San-ah..."

"Oh, whatever. So, how did the _date_ go?"

Mingi wants to argue, it _wasn't_ a date, but he figures it's pointless trying to convince San otherwise. "We went to get ice cream, which was really good by the way, and he took me back to his apartment where we hung out some more."

San is still grinning, the devil that he is. "Are you _sure_ you two didn't get down and dirty?"

" _No_ , San, we didn't."

San's face deflates. "Phooey."

"Actually, it was kind of the opposite of that. But first, tell me about your date with Wooyoung. I was surprised when I walked in and didn't see you two naked on the couch."

San gasps, spreading his fingers against his chest dramatically. "I'm not _that_ much of a slut, thank you very much! We went out for dinner, which was delicious, _and_ he payed for it! Then we walked around campus a bit, he held my hand, and we may or may not have kissed near the pond."

"Aw, how cute," Mingi drawls semi-sarcastically.

If San senses Mingi's facetiousness, he doesn't acknowledge it and keeps talking. "Look, the reason why I didn't take him back here is because I actually _like_ him. I'm not about to fuck things up because I'm horny."

"Are you?"

"Well, duh. He's fucking hot. But like I said, I'm not about to scare him off with my subtle fuckboy-ness, you know? I'd rather play it safe. Besides, we have a second date planned for next week."

Mingi chuckles, feeling happy for his roommate. "Well, enough about that. What did you mean when you said you guys did the opposite of fucking?" San asks, leaning into the kitchen island.

"Well, he sort of opened up to me about Hongjoong. You know, his dead best friend."

San's expression turns pensive. "Oh. Um, what did he say?"

"It was... a little difficult, to say the least, because Hongjoong was there."

San's eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah. Yunho was really torn up about it, had a lot of pent up emotions that he never really talked about. It was probably the first time Hongjoong's heard his true feelings too. He's told me that as much as he's been around Yunho since his death, he never really knew what Yunho was feeling."

San nods mindfully, gesturing Mingi to continue. "So Yunho just sort of... broke down. He's still in that stage where everything reminds him of Hongjoong, no matter how small it is."

"Ah, yeah. I remember going through that after my grandmother died." San nods again. "So, what did he say?"

"I don't really think it's my place to tell you, honestly," Mingi says.

"That's okay. You don't have to tell me."

"Though I will say, Hongjoong was speaking to Yunho. Yunho obviously didn't hear him, but I heard every word. I guess I kind of tried to convey similar messages to Yunho without telling him Hongjoong was there, and, well, I think it might've helped a little bit."

San smiles again. "See! Your power _can_ be helpful!"

"Yeah, yeah, it's whatever."

"It's not whatever, Mingi-yah!" San asserts, crossing his arms. "Stop playing it off like it's nothing. Like you said, you being able to hear Hongjoong's words and paraphrasing them to Yunho might have _helped._ That's not _whatever._ Trust me, Mingi-yah, your ability to contact my grandmother helped me loads. Just knowing that she was still there, watching over me, was enough to help calm my anxiety. I know you hate your ability, but it really does help. If not yourself, it helps others, and I think that's incredible."

Mingi blinks, his mind blank from San's sudden confession. "You must not want to tell Yunho about the fact that you can see Hongjoong because you're afraid of how he'd react, right?" San asks, to which Mingi nods silently. "Look, I don't know much about this Yunho guy, but he certainly didn't look like someone who'd get angry. Emotional, maybe, but if you were able to talk to Hongjoong and convey his messages directly, it might help even more."

Mingi looks down, some form of shame hovering above his head like a rain cloud. "I can't, San. I just can't. I don't know if you'd understand."

He hears San exhale. "Mingi... are you afraid of losing him?"

Okay, maybe he does understand.

"Are you scared that if Yunho finds out about you being able to see Hongjoong, that he'd get mad and not want to talk to you again?"

Pitifully, Mingi nods. "He's the only friend I've made besides you," he admits. "I like hanging out with him a lot, and I like seeing him smile. I don't... I don't want to risk it. I want to be able to hang out with him and see him smile."

"Oh, Mingi... you're so whipped."

Mingi gawks at him in disbelief. "Hey!"

"Kidding. Sort of." San snickers, then shakes his head. "But for real, I mean, it's your decision in the end. I get that you're scared of him not wanting to be your friend anymore, but just keep it in mind, yeah? Sure, there's a possibility of Yunho getting mad at you for hiding your ability to speak to Hongjoong, but there's also the possibility of him being eternally grateful to you if you contact Hongjoong for him."

Mingi can see both possibilities, but he's terrified of the true outcome. The risk that comes with confessing. At least, if Mingi keeps his ability a secret, things can remain the same as they are now. Though he wonders, if he does talk to Hongjoong in front of Yunho and delivers his messages, if it will help quell Yunho's sorrows and make him smile even more.

It's a risk that Mingi isn't sure he wants to take.

It's the only thing on Mingi's mind that night. That, and the image of Yunho smiling through his tears.

He wants Yunho to be able to smile without them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)


	4. remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've decided that i'm gonna be finishing this fic before seeking arcadia. that fic's a little more difficult to write, so this fic and evil's downfall will be my top priorities :)
> 
> enjoy yeosang's appearance! he gets drunk :D

San, the little gremlin that he is, decided to make it a bet, and that's how Mingi ended up here, in a chair at a tattoo-slash-piercing parlor, with clammy palms and his stupid roommate watching from the side with a shit-eating grin on his face. "I'm telling you, Mingi-yah," he says, arms crossed, "thirty thousand won if you don't chicken out."

Mingi is biting his bottom lip so hard he might as well get a lip piercing while he's at it. The piercer just watches the whole scene in amusement, already digging out the supplies she needs. "You sure you wanna do this, kid?" she asks, her voice rough around the edges. "Is thirty thousand won worth it?" She snickers, already wiping disinfectant on Mingi's earlobe.

"Thirty thousand won _and_ you treat me out to dinner. A _good_ dinner," Mingi demands, to which San just shrugs and makes a noise of agreement. "Fine. Do it."

"I promise it's not gonna hurt as much as you might think," the piercer, who goes by Rina, consoles, patting Mingi's upper arm. She has an entire sleeve of tattoos, something Mingi can see San having a few years down the road, but there's no way he could ever do it. Getting his ears pierced is enough.

He can feel his ears heating up from the disinfectant. "Alright," Rina says, and Mingi can feel something against his ear, though he can't tell what it is. "You're going to feel a poke and pinch, alright? Nothing too bad. On the count of three." Mingi inhales deeply at her cue. "One—"

San bursts out laughing once Mingi yelps in pain, Rina chuckling from amusement as well. "You said on count of three!" Mingi cries in pout, only to elicit more mischievous laughter from his roommate and the piercer.

"If someone says that and actually does it, they're wusses," Rina says.

Mingi can feel his bottom lip trembling, but he can also feel a weight in his ear. "Wait, did you leave the needle in there?" he shrieks in panic.

"No, Mingi-yah, it's the earring," San says. "She stabbed your ear with the needle and immediately put the earring in. You were just too busy being a baby to notice. See? One pinch and it's done."

"And there's just one more side to do," Rina says, rolling her chair over to Mingi's other side. "Okay, ready for this one?"

" _Please_ , on the count of three," Mingi begs, clasping his hands together. They're sweating a ridiculous amount.

"Fine," Rina says, wiping the disinfectant on the other ear. Mingi can see the needle she's holding, long and dangerous (well, not dangerous in comparison to a sword or something like that but it's still fucking terrifying), along with what Mingi assumes is the earring. The earring itself is maybe a centimeter long, not intimidating in the slightest, that is, until it enters his ear right after it's stabbed. "On the count of three." Mingi takes another deep breath, holding it as Rina goes, "One... _twothree_."

He hates Rina, he decides, but San just howls with laughter off to the side with Rina cackling in addition. This time, he can feel the earring go in, just some more added suffering. His ears are on fire, at least, that's what they feel like. "Alright my dude, you still breathing?"

"Sadly," Mingi mutters. His fingers are shaking once he loosens them from each other. San's laughter eventually dies down, and he appears at Mingi's side and pats his roommate's shoulder.

"You did good, babe," he says, that shit-eating grin still plastered on that stupid face of his.

Mingi scowls with disgust, feeling the urge to touch his ears, but he was explicitly instructed not to, so he refrains. He might just go home and put ice on them if they don't cool off by the time they get back, even though he probably shouldn't do that either.

Just like San said, he's not supposed to change his earrings until his ears are healed. For the time being, he'll keep Hyeseong's gift in his backpack, but he's already antsy, wanting to wear them already. He thinks they're much more aesthetically pleasing than the standard ones Rina gave him, just simple silver studs; plus, he'd want to go back into Hyeseong's shop and show her that he's making use of her gift.

Well, whatever. It's done now. Mingi's ears feel like they're going to fall off, and he exits the parlor with San's arm slung around his shoulders. "Well, Mingi-yah, tell me what your stomach desires and I'll treat you out to it. _Not_ ice cream, since Yunho already took you out for some. Got it?"

Still scowling, Mingi mutters, "I want steak. _Good_ steak."

Knowing a fairly expensive place, Mingi tells San he wants to go. San enthusiastically agrees, clearly having not been to this place before, and by the time they're seated and browsing the menu, San is glaring daggers at him. If looks could kill, Mingi would be just as dead as Kim Hongjoong.

That night, when their stomachs are full and San is out over a hundred thousand won, while Mingi is showering, San sneaks into his room, steals his laptop, and somehow manages to program a jumpscare for the next time Mingi uses it, which is that same night right after he exits the shower. When some exorcist-type shit pops up in his screen, he screams so loud and jerks backward, the momentum of it knocking the towel off his waist, and from his doorway, he can hear the shutter of a camera.

"You!" Mingi hollers, scrambling to pick up the towel to shield his lower half. "Delete that shit, _now_!" With a desperate grip on his towel, he chases after San and eventually catches up to him (bless his long legs), where he rips San's phone out of his hands and deletes the picture (and makes sure to delete it from the 'recently deleted' as well). "If I didn't need you to pay half the rent and wouldn't get arrested for it, I'd kill you."

San just snickers, snatching his phone back. "Oh, lighten up. I was gonna delete the picture. Just wanted to get back at you for making me spend a shit ton of money today just because you got your fucking ears pierced." His lighthearted expression turns sour, his lip curling with distaste.

"Hey, it was a big step for me!" Mingi argues, pouting.

"And I agree, but was it really worth a hundred thousand won worth of food?" San narrows his eyes at him. "I love you, Mingi dear, but not that much."

Scoffing, Mingi stands up and wraps the towel around his waist again, but before he's able to exit San's room fully, his roommate shouts, "If it means anything, you have a really nice butt, and your dick is _huge_!"

Mingi slams the door, hoping it rattles all the spirits in the entire goddamn building.

-

It's a shame he can't hang out with Yunho that often because he's busy with both work and classes, but he texts him whenever he can. Yunho still hasn't been to his apartment, which might be a good thing considering he keeps an entire shrine (well, not really a _shrine_ , but it sure looks like one so he'll call it that) of incense, herbs, and stones, and Yunho doesn't seem to be the kind of guy who's into all that stuff. If Mingi's being in honest, he's not necessarily _into_ it, but it keeps the spirits at bay and their apartment safe from the spirits that he knows exist.

When Mingi has free time (which is a lot, actually), he finds himself visiting Hyeseong's shop, and the sweet old lady just lets him stay there, even if he doesn't buy anything. There's a room in the back of the shop with a desk, chair, and a whole bunch of colorful decorations, windchimes, dreamcatchers, and more, that make for an environment that fills Mingi with inspiration and peace. He does his homework back there, finding that he can complete an entire essay in two hours. Go figure.

Hyeseong had complimented Mingi's newly acquired earrings as soon as she saw them, giving him a wrinkly grin and a proud bow of the head. While Mingi is tucked away in the back room, Hyeseong wanders the aisles and arranges the goods, meditates, or reads a book. Occasionally, she'll stop by the room and ask how Mingi is doing on his work, to which he'll reply "good," and she'll leave him alone.

It's peaceful, Mingi thinks. Much better than being at the apartment, not to mention it helps him feel like he's actually _out_ , and not just staring at a blank computer screen at his own unfinished work with his brain hammering against his skull yelling at him _do something you worthless clairvoyant_! No, being surrounded by tranquil, positive energy gives Mingi more than enough motivation to get out of his own head for once and start _doing._

But when he does return to his apartment to sleep, he can't help but think it _isn't enough._

"Something seems to be troubling you, dear," Hyeseong says out of the blue one day. "Care to tell me what is on your mind?"

Mingi sighs, his essay near finished, but he can't be mad at the old lady who practically saved his work ethic for interrupting him. "Just... I feel like I should be doing more."

"Doing more of what?"

"I don't know, just _doing._ Don't get me wrong, I love being here and it gets me out of the house, but... it still feel like I should be experiencing college life. Not necessarily partying or things like that, but, I don't know, making friends or something. Meeting new people, hanging out with them."

Hyeseong nods, her eyes gazing about the room. "Well, what's stopping you?"

When Mingi really and truly thinks about it, he doesn't really know. He'd always blamed it on the fact that the spirits make him feel on edge with the energy that they emit, but lately he's felt less and less of it and more of the whole existential thing. Are the spirits really an excuse anymore?

"I don't really know. I'd always hear and feel spiritual energy, and whether it was positive or negative, it always gave me the chills whenever I went places. I was always afraid to go out because of it, but I've been feeling it less and less nowadays. I guess... I really don't know what's stopping me," Mingi confesses.

Hyeseong nods again, her eyes landing on the medium. "Do you have friends you can talk to?"

"Yeah, my roommate and one other." He suppresses the urge to smile at the thought of Yunho.

"Do they know about your abilities?"

"My roommate does. I... haven't gotten around to telling my other friend, though."

_Because he can see his dead best friend._

"Do they know about the way you feel? Perhaps they will be able to help you, introduce you to new people and such."

That _does_ remind Mingi, he hasn't met Wooyoung yet, even though San's been seeing him regularly and he has a feeling that the two will be boyfriends soon enough. He also wonders what other friends Yunho has, if any (which, he's sure he does; how could anyone _not_ like Yunho?). "Yeah, that's true."

Hyeseong nods, finally pulling out a stool from the side of the room and sitting on it. She's looking at Mingi with a knowing _look_ , and Mingi thinks, maybe this is to be expected. She can probably read people like a book, being a strong clairvoyant herself. "I'm sure that isn't the only thing that is troubling you, dear. There is something else that is much more deeply set. I can try to offer you solace, but I can only do so if you tell me. I may be clairvoyant, but I am no mind reader." Her saggy cheeks lift with a smile.

Mingi sighs, returning one of his own. "The reason why I haven't told my one friend about my ability is because I'm experiencing it firsthand whenever I'm with him. His best friend passed away in an accident a few months ago, and his spirit is physically attached to him. I can both see and speak to him."

"I see." Hyeseong turns her gaze to a photo hanging on the wall above the desk. Mingi's seen it before; it's in black and white, an old photo of what he assumes is Hyeseong's family. "And your friend is still grieving, I assume." Mingi nods in response, his own eyes landing on the photograph. "I understand why you would be hesitant to tell him about your ability. If you did, there's a possibility he'd jump to the conclusion that you can contact his friend... which would be correct."

"Yeah," Mingi says, and that's when a revelation springs up in his head. "I can't let him know that I can see his friend... because what if he _does_ ask me to contact him? Wouldn't it make things more difficult?"

"I believe it depends on the person, dear," Hyeseong says. "For example, my mother used her ability to contact the deceased of families all over the country to offer consolation and closure. It helped plenty of families, knowing that their loved ones were at peace."

"But the thing is, his friend's spirit _isn't_ at peace. He's still here on the Earth plane because there's an attachment there, something that I'm guessing Yunho can't let go of."

"Yunho? That is your friend's name?"

Mingi supposes there's no harm in Hyeseong knowing Yunho's name, so he nods. "His friend's name is Hongjoong. Hongjoong's spirit is still attached to Yunho. He goes wherever Yunho goes."

Hyeseong's brows scrunch with either confusion or concern. "Hm, that is new information to me. My mother never mentioned anything about being able to see physical spirits."

Mingi shrugs. "I've only ever been able to see and talk to one other spirit. It was several years ago, at a café near my house. The owner's deceased grandmother was watching over the place, and I would talk to her sometimes. The owner was pregnant, and once she gave birth, I stopped seeing the grandmother's spirit. I remember her telling me that she wouldn't rest until she knew her family would be okay."

"I see," Hyeseong says again, eyes turning back to Mingi. "And you think that Hongjoong's spirit lingers on because of Yunho? Or do you think it is the other way around?"

"The other way around?"

"Do you believe that Hongjoong's spirit lingers because Yunho refuses to let go, or because Hongjoong can't let go?"

 _Hongjoong_ can't let go? Mingi hadn't even considered the possibilities. The only real "conclusion" he could reach was that there is unfinished business, a reason why Hongjoong can't pass on. But as for what that reason is?

Mingi has no clue.

"Hongjoong's told me that he _wants_ to move on," Mingi says. "In fact, that's kind of what I'm trying to help him accomplish. If Hongjoong wants to move on, shouldn't he have already let go? It has to be Yunho, right? Yunho's the one who hasn't moved on, which, like, is understandable. Hongjoong passed away only a few months ago."

"Of course, every situation is different, but from the other instance you described to me, it seems like the grandmother's spirit was unwilling to part until her family was safe," Hyeseong considers. "Do you think that is a possibility in this case? Where Hongjoong can't let go until he knows Yunho will be okay?"

Something troublesome rings in Mingi's body. "B-but, it almost seemed as if the grandmother _purposely_ wouldn't leave until the baby was born. In this case, Hongjoong _can't._ He's not on the Earth plane willingly."

Hyeseong nods with a hum of acknowledgement. "The thing is, Mingi, if the reason why Hongjoong isn't passing on is because of Yunho not being able to let go, then there would be spirits wandering all over the place. Death stays with us. We never truly let go."

"I..." Mingi exhales, feeling the realization burst inside him. _Hongjoong can't pass on because of himself._ "I-I guess I never really considered that. I haven't experienced the passing of any loved ones... yet. So I don't exactly know what it's like."

"It is a very harrowing experience," Hyeseong says, her voice solemnly reminiscent. "Death is inevitable, yes. Sometimes, it comes sooner than expected. For my mother, it was her time. Old age. She lived well, but even so, despite knowing that her life was coming to an end, the news of her death still hurt irreparably."

Mingi sucks in his bottom lip as he closes his eyes, his head hanging. He tries to imagine what it would be like for him if his own mother passed away, suddenly or not. Even San, his roommate that he can't stand sometimes. He imagines that losing them would be like losing a part of himself. After all, they've been through thick and thin with him. And even though he can't truly feel it, he can _imagine_ that hole in his chest. He clutches it, not realizing that it started to arise.

"The same with my father," Hyeseong continues. "Even after the death of my mother, having gone through the grief and mourning, my father's death didn't hurt any less. However, their spirits were ready to move along, and I myself knew that they were too. It made the grieving easier, but not impossible."

Right. The grieving of a loved one is inevitable. Even upon hearing news about the death of a stranger or an acquaintance, Mingi can imagine himself feeling the slightest bit of grief, for that person and their families especially. That is what death does to others.

Death and the grief that follows it are inevitable.

But then again, if Hongjoong isn't passing on because he himself isn't ready to move along, _what is the reason for that_?

And more importantly, is Hongjoong even aware of what that reason could be?

"So... the reason why Hongjoong isn't passing on is because of himself, not Yunho?"

"It is merely a possibility, Mingi dear," Hyeseong says, her eyes landing on the photograph once again as she smiles fondly. "Perhaps there is no clear reason that either of them are aware of. Only time will tell. Time heals all wounds, inside and out, if we allow it to."

Somewhere in the shop, one of the windchimes peals.

-

Hyeseong's words haunt Mingi for the next few days.

Not leaving the apartment is nothing new for him, but it's an annoyance once San notices he's secluding himself again and confronts him about it. He doesn't properly _scold_ Mingi for not going out, doesn't raise his voice or anything like that, but it feels more like a guilt trip, with the notion of, "I thought you were getting better, y'know, putting yourself out there more!"

And Mingi thinks, what the hell does he even mean by "getting better?"

He's not depressed, nor is he being plagued by any sort of mental illness that would warrant "getting better." He's _fine._ He still has San, still has Yunho, still goes to class, and still gets his work done. He's _fine._

But the words remain. That part doesn't get better.

_"Time heals all wounds, inside and out, if we allow it to."_

Is that what it is? Is it that Yunho isn't allowing time to heal his wounds? Or is it because he just _can't_?

Time heals all wounds. Mingi's heard that saying so many times, and has never thought it to be true. How can the wound caused by the loss of a loved one ever be cauterized, healed over completely, without leaving a scar? Of _course_ , no one can ever fully heal from it. No one can heal from the pain of losing someone, as the loss of that person may cause a fractional loss of oneself. Even if he hasn't experienced it for himself, he can imagine.

Mingi tries to imagine losing Yunho. Losing that ray of sunshine, the smile that holds a million reasons to get up in the morning, the freshest air and the pouring rain that comes with spring. Losing Yunho, losing him in any way, whether it be death or anything else... well, Mingi is pretty sure he'd never want to leave the house again. Not when Yunho has been one of his own inspirations to go outside.

He wouldn't be able to go outside without thinking of Yunho. He is sure of that.

He wonders what things make Yunho think of Hongjoong.

-

The first thing Yunho says when Mingi sees him again is, "Holy shit, you got your ears pierced!"

Mingi both laughs externally and winces internally, laughs because it's Yunho, winces because he thinks about the swelling his ears have been going through and the several minutes Mingi has to take out of his day to clean them thoroughly ("It shouldn't take more than two minutes, Mingi-yah!" San would constantly yell at him). "Yeah, I did. It was on a bet, though. Thank San for that."

Yunho chuckles, head tilting to observe both of Mingi's ears. "They look good! Did it hurt?"

"Yes, but I'm also kind of a crybaby," Mingi admits.

"That's okay! Kind of cute if you ask me." And if that doesn't make Mingi's heart flutter a bit, well. "So what do you want?" They stand in line at the café they'd met at before, the one San had suggested, because Mingi really liked their hot chocolate.

He orders it again.

"How's work been?" Mingi asks as the two slide into one of the booths.

Yunho shrugs, opening the cap to his coffee. "Work is work. Dealing with crabby customers and students who don't know what a semicolon is is about as exciting as it can get, but at least I'm getting paid. What about you? How are classes?"

"I've actually been getting a lot more work done than usual," Mingi says.

"That's good! I'm glad my schedule isn't super jam-packed with tough classes this semester. It's enough so that I can balance both my jobs and manage to get passing grades while still earning the credits I need."

_While also still mourning the death of your best friend._

_"You're incredibly strong. I could never do what you do,"_ Mingi wants to tell him.

"Are you still interested in getting into the online tutoring program? It pays fairly well." Oh, right. That. Mingi had completely forgotten about that, being coiled up in his own head for the past... twenty or so years. "With midterms coming up, people are in need of tutors... and the program is always open to new ones. You said you're good at lit, right?"

"Y-yeah. I'm pretty good at it, and writing papers."

"Oh, then you can do what I do! There are always students who need help revising papers. Hell, we could probably even help each other with revisions too. It's a good job, I promise." Yunho grins, evidently enthusiastic about the possibility of having a tutoring partner.

And hey, if Mingi can work from home and get paid, he'll take it. Yunho gives him the number of the professor in charge of the tutoring program, which he tucks away in his pocket and hopes that he'll remember.

"You said you write poetry, right?" Yunho asks at one point. Mingi's cup is halfway done.

"Yeah, sometimes. I haven't written in a while, though." And that's the truth; Mingi used to write a lot of poems and short stories, sometimes retellings of his own experiences through the eyes of a fictional character, but having been bombarded with university work, he hasn't exactly had the time to write for leisure.

"I'd love to read one of your works one day."

And _god_ , Mingi feels his heart speed up. "U-um, I haven't written in a really long time. I don't even know if I have anything that I can show you," Mingi says with a nervous laugh.

Admittedly, Mingi would also like to see the things Yunho has written, but he also knows that a lot of what he writes is about Hongjoong. He avoids telling him.

"That's okay! Just, if you do ever write something, feel free to send it to me. I promise I won't revise it, revisions are for papers only."

Mingi raises an eyebrow. "What if there are grammatical errors?"

"If it's a story or a novel, then yeah. But who am I to tell you how to write poetry?" Yunho asks. "Poets take their writing in all sorts of directions. It can be easy flowing or chaotic, depending on the thoughts and emotions that the author wants to convey. Who cares if there are grammatical errors? I'd correct spelling errors errors probably, but I wouldn't revise a piece of poetry saying, 'oh, you need to shorten this thought or write it this way.' That's the beauty of poetry, don't you think?"

The beauty of poetry. Beauty. The phrase makes Mingi's chest thump, as does the way Yunho's eyes sparkle as he talks about it. "Nobody should have a say in the way someone writes poetry. Poetry is one's own thoughts. It may not make any sense to the readers, but if it makes sense to the one who wrote it, then that's all that matters. I even think that once the poem is written, the poet themselves shouldn't go back and take anything out. Revise, maybe, but not rewrite." Yunho sits back and sighs, lips forming a dream-like smile. "That's the thing about majoring in journalism. Sure, I get to take creative writing courses, but a lot of the writing I do is technical. Articles, research papers, things like that. It's good writing practice, but I believe the _real_ art is in poetry."

Mingi can envision it. He thinks about how Yunho had said he had a way with words.

Yunho is no different.

Perhaps Hongjoong was going places, but so was Yunho. With eyes so ambitious and the words of a true poet spoken, Mingi imagines Yunho has just as much potential as Hongjoong did. Hongjoong must see it too.

Speaking of which.

"Mingi-ssi," a whisper says, "don't turn to your right. I'm here, just so you know."

Mingi bites the inside of his lip. "Yeah, I can understand where you're coming from." He continues the conversation with Yunho, ignoring the shivering on the right side of his body. "Poetry is like the freedom of speech of writing."

"Exactly! If we try to change the poet's writing, then it's not theirs anymore. I mean, I guess that rings true for all forms of writing, but poetry is an exception."

Mingi nods, though a heavy weight in his chest begins to form knowing very well that Hongjoong is there with him. His hands around the to-go cup tighten. "I'm sorry, I tend to ramble about things that get me excited." Yunho chuckles, but unlike Mingi, it's done with confidence, pride, because that's what Yunho is. He is himself without boundaries, without shame. Brave, timeless. Mingi, on the other hand, laughs meekly with his head low because that's who he is. What he's used to.

Yunho isn't sorry. Not one bit.

Oh, what Mingi would do to be a ray of sunshine like him.

Feeling a wave of inspiration wash over him, Mingi finds himself smiling as Yunho does. "You know, I might just go home and write something."

"Ah, really? Well, feel free to send it to me whenever you're done. No rush, of course."

Hongjoong sighs from beside them. "He's always been a source of inspiration. That, and so much more. If only he knew how much he means to people."

Mingi is very inclined to agree.

-

As soon as Mingi gets home, he ignores the, "Hey, Mingi, how was your date with Yunho?" from San and bolts straight into his room to open his laptop. He can hear the muffled protests of his roommate once the door closes, but he quickly locks it, hoping San doesn't bother him further.

Hongjoong's appearance had actually been quite short in comparison to other times. Mingi was surprised when the chills disappeared only after a few more sentences of the conversation. He'd disappeared without a word, and didn't interrupt or comment on anything they were saying. Mingi was grateful, but couldn't help but feel a guilty for some reason.

He opens up his laptop and opens up his school email, sending a (fairly) well-written letter to the head of the tutoring program. Yunho had said that it would be okay to use him as a reference, so he throws Yunho's name in there, hoping that maybe that would persuade the professor into giving him a position. The email is concise yet substantial, and Mingi hits send confidently.

The next thing he does is open up a blank documents, and he spills his thoughts onto the keyboard.

-

_I think there's something to be said about that one quote "time heals all wounds."_

_Where pain is existent and inevitable, as is the damage it causes, how can time, a construct formed by humanity, possibly heal those wounds, especially the ones on the inside?_

_By inside, I don't mean damage to the internal organs or broken bones. I mean the wounds inflicted onto the mind and spirit, that bring forward emotions that can be infinitely more excruciating than bruised ribs or a broken bone. The kinds of wounds that stay with us no matter how hard we try to heal it._

_We wrap bandages around our physical injuries. Time heals those. We learn to move and walk again. Even for those who may lose a body part, their hearts remain, they are alive, and they go on._

_What sort of bandage can we wrap around the wounds caused by grief? Trauma? Guilt? Time does not serve as a bandage. It is merely something that marches on, that ticks along in the form of seconds, minutes, hours, and so on, but pain continues. Pain will only continue on along with time. Time does not equate to a bandage. Time is irrelevant when it comes to pain._

_So that begs the question, what can we do to make the pain stop?_

_I, for one, can't answer that question, not quite yet. I haven't experienced a sufficient amount of pain in my lifetime to know exactly how to move on from it. What I do know is that there are people around me, close to me, who have dealt with pain, or are dealing with it, and I am glad that they are alive._

_I want to see them smile. Through the pain, through the hardships, a smile, that small crevice in one's face that somehow makes me happier than ice cream on a summer day, is what gives me a reason to go outside._

_And I want them to be able to smile despite the pain, despite the hardships, because pain doesn't heal._

_It just becomes more bearable._

_And even if one never truly does move on from pain, if they can live with it, and live **contently**_ _,_ _well, wouldn't that be the best outcome?_

_I can imagine it isn't easy to lose someone. I've been thinking about it a lot recently. Even as someone who has the ability to see the dead, I haven't experienced it or its aftermath for myself. I cannot begin to fathom the pain it causes, at least, not yet, but whenever I imagine it, my chest gets tight, like the spirits I see have all somehow invaded my body, screaming at me, **this is what it's like**. I can only imagine the pain the dead have experienced._

_I do, however, wonder if it is anything like the pain the living experience after the dead die._

_For the dead, their pain has come to an end. But as long as their loved ones live, the legacy, the **pain** , will remain._

_Pain doesn't stop. It doesn't heal. The wounds caused by the death of a loved can never go back to the way they were._

_But as I previously stated, I believe it can become **bearable**._

_To the point where one can continue on with life. To the point where one can find their own way forward, to get up in the morning, to make something of themselves because that's what their loved ones would want them to do._

_I also believe, however, that it is important to live for oneself._

_To not just live for the sake of the dead. After all, they are dead and can't be brought back. But to live for the better, the unknown future, to beat the odds and the pain, because that is what makes us strong. Makes us human._

_It is important to live for oneself but never forget the pain. To **remember** it. To remember the dead and gone. To grieve. To reminisce. To cry, even._

_But to **move along**._

_I cannot stress enough how important it is._

**remember**

**- _s.m._**

-

It's chaotic, and Mingi knows it. But he can hear the subtle whisper of Yunho's words, that poetry should not be revised. He's tempted, but he forgoes it, _for Yunho_ , because these are his words. These are his thoughts. They may not make any sense to anyone; hell, he's not even sure how much sense they make to him, but they're there now. They're on the screen, all characters spelled out in a string of incoherent thoughts, of feelings that Mingi hasn't even felt yet.

Yet. After all, death is inevitable. It will come to him one day. He will experience it for himself.

Maybe then, his thoughts will make sense, and even if they don't, he supposes that's okay.

It's incoherent, it's chaotic, but it's _his._

It's the beauty of poetry, whatever that may mean.

-

The first thing Mingi experiences in the morning besides his usual bowl of cereal is a particularly hard smack upside the head, so sudden that he nearly spits out a mess of Cheerios and almond milk. "What the fuck, San?"

"Thanks for fucking _ignoring_ me last night when I was trying to ask how your day went," San sneers, positioning himself at the kitchen island in front of him, leaning over the counter with his arms crossed. "What, were you in _that_ much of a hurry to jerk off?"

Mingi scoffs and rolls his eyes, releasing his spoon and letting it land on the bowl with a 'clink.' "I don't have to explain myself to you."

"So you _were_!"

"I was _not_!" Mingi raises his voice, taking San aback. His shoulders sag as he thinks back to the previous night, where his fingers had run cold and his eyes grew so tired they stung, but the words still didn't make sense.

He wrote something, but he can't send it to Yunho. For one, it mentions his ability to see the dead, a portion that Mingi could easily erase, but like Yunho said, one shouldn't try to rewrite poetry, not even the authors themselves. And Mingi can't exactly figure out why, but he feels inclined to abide by what Yunho said.

"So... what was it then?" San asks, his voice turning serious. "You really seemed like you were in a hurry. Were you upset or something?"

Mingi sighs as he fiddles with the handle of his spoon. "Just... felt inspired is all. I don't know if you knew this about me, but I used to write."

"Oh, really?" San suddenly straightens up, as if his interest is piqued. "What, did the date with Yunho inspire you or something?"

"First, it wasn't a _date_ , and second, yes."

"Keep on trying to convince me you and Yunho's hangouts aren't dates, I dare you." San chuckles wickedly. "But that aside, I'm guessing you were in such a hurry to get your inspiration out, huh?"

Mingi nods. "Yunho's a writer too. He said that he'd like to read my works one of these days, but I haven't written in forever. We talked about some things, and, well, I got inspired and wanted to come home and write it all down. Sorry if I was a bit negligent."

San scoffs with a smile. "Well, it's good you weren't in a rush to jack off. If that _were_ the case, I'd say that your date with Yunho went either really well or really poorly."

"It wasn't a date, and I don't like him in that way!" Mingi pouts and glances down at his now soggy cereal, but can feel his face flushing.

"Keep telling yourself that, love."

Mingi huffs and shoves the last sad spoonful of cereal into his mouth, wishing he could dump the milk on his roommate without consequence.

-

Both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, Mingi makes it in to the tutoring program, and ends up with a desk next to Yunho's. Seeing as the two were already acquainted, the head of the program decided to schedule them the same hours at the library. Mingi doesn't entirely mind going out to the library, especially now that he gets to work next to Yunho. Of course, there's always the possibility of Hongjoong popping in and out, but he doesn't entirely mind.

He's getting paid to nitpick papers, sit at his computer, and occasionally interact with other students! What is there to complain about?

Well, there are _some_ things to complain about, but Mingi is happy with his new position.

His first client is a student by the name of Kang Yeosang, who comes to him in need of a psych paper revision. According to the email he'd received from Yeosang, the student is "confident in his paper but just needs a second opinion," and honestly, Mingi is glad, because that'll make his job ten times easier, especially since it's his first ever assignment.

And certainly enough, the paper is damn near flawless. All Mingi catches are a few grammar mistakes and run-on sentences, but the content of the paper, the format, all of it is impeccable.

When Mingi tells Yeosang this, the student lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank god, I was running low on energy because my best friend-slash-fake roommate would keep me up at ungodly hours of the night. He's so fucking noisy, and he's recently started dating someone so _that_ definitely doesn't help."

Mingi snorts out a laugh. "I feel you. I'm glad my roommate hasn't gotten around to bringing the person he's been seeing home... yet."

"For your sake, I hope he doesn't," Yeosang laughs out, smiling as he shuts his laptop.

"I don't mean to be nosy or anything," Yunho interjects from his desk beside Mingi's, "but what's your friend's name?"

"Jung Wooyoung, why?"

Mingi and Yunho share the same bewildered expression. "No way, _you're_ Wooyoung's best friend?" Yunho nearly exclaims.

"Um... yes? You know him?"

"I work with him at the grocery store! I'm Yunho."

Yeosang's face lights up with recognition. "Oh yeah! Wooyoung's mentioned your name a couple times. He always talks about how fun you are to work with despite the job being hell sometimes." Mingi can see Yunho smile as a slight blush appears on his ears.

"And I'm Mingi, San's roommate. The guy Wooyoung's been seeing," Mingi says, and Yeosang's eyes widen. "I am so, _so_ sorry you have to experience the chaos that he brings wherever he goes."

"Pfft, tell me about it. Wooyoung's loud as shit, and San's no different. They're like a match made in heaven. But wow, what a small world, huh?"

"I thought Wooyoung lived alone," Mingi brings up.

"Technically, yeah, but I dorm and the roommate I was assigned is a dipshit so I basically live at Wooyoung's place. I can't afford to pay rent on a monthly basis, so I can't formally move in with him. He's graciously willing to let me sleep at his place, though."

"Hey," Yunho says, "if you two ever need to get away from those two, feel free to come over to my place. I live alone, so maybe having two pseudo roommates would help liven up the place."

The proposition makes Mingi both excited and nervous as shit, and he hopes that the smile he puts on is enough to hide the fact that the butterflies in his stomach are fluttering around helplessly. All the while, Yeosang wears a grateful grin. "That would be _amazing_ , Yunho. God, I need a break from those two. But it makes me wonder, why the hell am _I_ stuck with San coming over all the time? I mean, technically it is his place, but still."

Mingi feels his heart stop for a bit.

Maybe it is something against him, because maybe the apartment gives off weird vibes due to the fact a guy who can see ghosts keeps a shrine of spiritual shit in both his and the main room, and maybe San doesn't exactly want guests to know. He chuckles nervously. "I'm, uh, sorry about that. I'll have a talk with San about it, if you want."

Yeosang shrugs. "It's fine. I mean, now that I've got Yunho's invitation, maybe I'll take him up on it."

"Honestly guys, feel free to come by whenever you want, since I'm out more often than not. I'll conveniently leave a spare key in the potted plant next to the front door. And maybe, Yeosang, you can be _my_ pseudo roommate instead of Wooyoung's. Or both of ours, whatever floats your boat."

"Wait a second," Mingi says, "San and Wooyoung are official now?"

"Yeah, you didn't know? Even I knew that," Yunho says.

"For someone who talks a lot, San really doesn't tell me shit," Mingi grumbles.

Instead, San's too invested in _his_ love life. His nonexistent one.

Because he _doesn't_ like Yunho in that way.

"They seem really happy together," Yeosang says. "I'm happy for them, but god I wish they'd keep it down."

"Like I said, feel free to come over anytime," Yunho repeats with a wink.

And, well, if that doesn't motivate Mingi to leave the apartment, he doesn't know what else will.

-

"Shit."

For once, San is on the receiving end of the admonishment. To be fair, it's not even that, but he's certainly making it seem that way. He's sitting compliantly on the sofa, back poised and hands on his lap like a child being disciplined. "Yeah, so, Yunho offered his place to me and Yeosang, but _if_ Yeosang happens to be there while you two get up to... whatever you two get up to, can you at least keep it down?" Mingi is standing above his roommate, and he's already got several centimeters on him, so now, San just looks even smaller.

"Fine," San agrees much too easily. "But enough about that. Yunho offered to let you and Yeosang stay at his place? Holy shit, Mingi-yah, that opens up a whole new window of opportunities!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Friends! Love! Sex! Who knows, maybe you and Yeosang—"

Mingi cuts him off with a groan. "God, San, would you _shut up_ about my love life? It's not going to happen!"

"Oh, _please_ , you're so whipped for Yunho you're basically coming out of the can."

Mingi glares at San incredulously. "That's... a terrible analogy."

"Whatever! Point is, now that you're able to hang out at Yunho's place, you two can get even _closer._ I mean, I hope the ghost doesn't cockblock you or anything. Imagine getting cockblocked by a ghost. Speaking of which, how's he doing?"

"He's... still dead, San," Mingi deadpans. "And still attached to Yunho. Still not passing on."

"Oh."

Mingi lets out an exasperated sigh as San stands up. "Sorry for asking."

"It's fine," Mingi says. "He's not always there, but at the same time, he is. He comes and goes, but he's still on the Earth plane and hasn't passed on yet."

"And you're still trying to figure out how to help him pass on?" Mingi nods. "God, that sounds tough."

"It is. Like, how the hell am I supposed to figure out why Hongjoong isn't passing on? Shit like that isn't written in stone, you know. Not to mention I don't even know all that much about Hongjoong himself—"

"So why don't you ask him? Can't you just talk to Hongjoong and ask him about himself?"

"He only appears wherever Yunho is. I can't exactly talk to Hongjoong without Yunho knowing."

"Well, now that you're able to stay over at Yunho's place on the occasion, maybe you could talk to Hongjoong while he's sleeping or something."

And as intrusive and borderline creepy as the idea may seem, it's probably one of the most viable ones. That, or do what he's done so far by going to the grocery store while Yunho is working and talking to Hongjoong that way, but then again, it's a public place and there are plenty of people who could listen in on Mingi talking to nothing.

"I hate it when you have good ideas."

San's eyes nearly close with how wide that fox-like grin of his gets, and Mingi hates it with every fiber of his being.

-

**[the poor roommates and their savior]**

**[Yunho]**

_are u guys coming over tonight or what_

_doesn't necessarily have to be because of the whole woosan thing, y'all can just come over i dont mind_

**[Yeosang]**

_depends idk. i'm waiting to hear back from woo_

_also woosan??? is that what we're calling them now???_

**[Mingi]**

_thanks i hate it_

**[Yunho]**

_i thought it was clever :(((_

_but anyway yeah feel free to let yourselves in. key's conveniently placed in the potted plant next to the front door! :D_

_i'll be home in like an hour just lmk if ur coming over_

**[Yeosang]**

_roger that captain_

**[Yunho]**

_in the words of song mingi, thanks i hate it_

-

Mingi thinks Yunho must have a very high level of trust if he's willing to let him and Yeosang in at any point in time. That, or he's just very generous. _Or_ , just doesn't give a shit. Could be all three. Whatever the case, Mingi lets himself into Yunho's apartment, the debate in his mind about it before leaving his own having lasted two seconds. He hasn't been to Yunho's apartment since that night, the one with the confession, and seeing it empty and dark gives Mingi an evocative sense of dread.

Hongjoong isn't here, but with how Mingi's skin crawls as soon as he walks in, he might as well be.

He flips on the kitchen and living room light. He remembers the apartment being much darker, but perhaps it had been the somber mood of that particular night. Hopefully, this one, whatever it may hold, will be lighter. It is Friday night, after all. They deserve some fun here and now.

And as if fate decided, Yeosang lets himself in not even five minutes after Mingi.

"Oh, hey! Didn't expect to see you here. Or, maybe I did, actually." Yeosang greets Mingi with one of those handshake-bro-hug things, and thankfully, he pulls it off.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I don't really have plans, like, ever." Mingi chuckles awkwardly (as he normally does). "So I figured I'd take advantage of the offer."

"I bet Yunho'll bring back some you-know-what." Yeosang waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Do you drink?"

"From the way you moved your eyebrows, I thought it was going to be something more scandalous than alcohol," Mingi quips, laughing. "But to answer your question, not really. I mean, I _have_ , but I don't seek it out."

Yeosang shrugs. "That's fine. Honestly, I don't either, especially with dorm rules and all that. Not to mention my tolerance is atrocious, but that doesn't stop me from having a little tipsy fun here and there. Besides, if we all get drunk and play some icebreaker games, we'll get to know each other more!"

Icebreaker games. Yeosang is funny. "What about Wooyoung?"

"Oh, he's more into weed. Doesn't have alcohol, but he has weed. Isn't that weird?"

Mingi splutters a laugh.

"And I don't smoke, so." Yeosang shrugs. "I don't get to drink often."

With how hopeful Yeosang sounds, Mingi imagines that the night will either end blissfully or abysmally for him.

As Yeosang expected, Yunho returns home with six bottles of soju, a bottle of mango vodka, and to Mingi's surprise, a pint of his beloved triple cookie blast ice cream. Mingi's entire chest jitters at the sight, not just because it's his favorite flavor but because _Yunho thought to pick up a pint for him._ "Because I know it's your favorite," Yunho says, smiling as he hands it over. "And for you." He hands the bottle of vodka to Yeosang.

"Holy shit, you actually got it! I totally wasn't expecting you to, but thanks!"

Mingi has to hold back a snort. What a lie.

"No problem. The soju is for whoever wants it. Don't know if you drink or not, but there's an assortment of flavors if you want any," Yunho says directed at Mingi.

Mingi checks out each bottle. He's had plain before, which is decent, but the peach sounds interesting, so he claims that one. They migrate to the living room after Yeosang retrieves a few shotglasses, and he immediately pours himself a shot of the mango vodka. "Sheesh, Yeo, you're really into drinking, huh?" Yunho comments, filling his own glass with the vodka as Mingi opts for the soju.

"I don't get to do it often!" Yeosang protests. "I just like being drunk. Not like, blackout drunk, but drunk enough so that I feel all happy and shit, y'know?"

"Okay, Yeosang," Mingi says, shaking his head. "Cheers?"

"Cheers!" the other two exclaim, and they all clink their glasses together, downing their first shots. Mingi swallows his fairly easily, watching in amusement as Yeosang's entire face scrunches up once the vodka makes its way down his esophagus. Yunho, on the other hand, just smacks his lips together.

"You were right, Yeosang, this is pretty good."

"Right? Wooyoungie introduced it to me once, and never bought it again, that bastard."

Yeosang probably forgot about the whole icebreaker game thing, because he's the first one to just completely _spill._ He rambles on about his life as a psychology student, how the human brain works, how the human brain works _on alcohol_ ("because that's me! I'm on alcohol right now!"), how exhausting writing research papers is, and how much he loves Wooyoung (platonically).

Three shots of mango vodka deep, Yeosang giggles between each sentence he speaks. He talks about how he and Wooyoung have been best friends since high school, how Wooyoung even followed him to the university because he didn't want to be apart. He talks about how Wooyoung makes him a better person, how Wooyoung is the reason why he's doing so well in university. How Wooyoung's obnoxious laugh and gay antics are the things that make him wake up in the morning.

All the while, Yunho listens to him with a sad smile.

And it's as if the spirit realm just _knows_ , because Hongjoong's head peeks out from behind Yeosang, who's swaying while sitting criss-crossed on Yunho's living room floor.

"I love Wooyoungie sooo much," Yeosang drawls. "And I'm so happy for him and San. Wooyoung struggled a lot with his sexuality in high school. Everyone made fun of him for it, but, like, he had me, y'know? He told me that while being ridiculed by his peers was hard, he was happy because he had me, and going to university was going to be, like, a new beginning for him. And it really was! He has San now, and I couldn't be happier for him."

Mingi watches both Yunho and Hongjoong's faces fall, though Yunho does his best to keep his composure for Yeosang's sake, considering their new friend doesn't know about Hongjoong yet.

Yeosang pours a shot of the peach soju. "Okay, this is my last one. If I try to drink again, hold me back." Both Yunho and Mingi nod, and Yeosang downs the shot with a single scrunch of the nose. The peach soju is almost gone, with both Mingi and Yunho having shared some of it. "Mingi, you finish it."

Mingi shrugs, his head only slightly hazy, and drinks the rest of it from the bottle. "Okay, that's enough for me."

Yeosang pouts. "Phooey."

Hongjoong crawls out from behind Yeosang as Mingi does his best to avoid watching him. The spirit seats himself in between Yunho and Yeosang, directly across from Mingi. "I'm just glad you're not drinking a lot, Yunho-yah," he says, gazing fondly at his best friend. "Serves the drunk driver right."

As if Yunho can hear him, he smiles. "I think that's enough for everyone, actually," he announces, picking up the bottles. "Mingi, want your ice cream?"

"Yes please."

Hongjoong giggles. "Aw, how cute."

Mingi has to try really hard not to glare in the invisible man's direction.

Yunho even brings him a spoon and a warm smile with his ice cream. Mingi takes it with trembling hands, either from the alcohol or the nerves because _Yunho got him his favorite ice cream._ "Thank you, seriously," he says, popping the lid. "I owe you."

"Don't worry about it. I get it half off anyway. You know, that ice cream shop I took you to has a similar flavor. I'm sure you'd like it, if you wanna go there again sometime." Mingi notices the way Hongjoong smirks at Yunho's invitation, which again, he has to ignore.

"You two are so cute," Yeosang slurs. "How long have you two been seeing each other?"

" _What_?" Mingi hasn't even gotten to putting any ice cream in his mouth and he's already choking.

"Oh, are you two not, like, a thing?"

"No, we're not," Yunho says, sounding more amused than offended. "What gave you that idea?"

Yeosang bursts into a fit of giggles, and it looks as if Hongjoong is the same way. "You two just gave me that _energy_ , y'know? Like, Mingi just kinda looks at you like he's got a big fat _crush_ on you."

Hongjoong's giggles emerge at that. "Wait, are you two even gay?" Yeosang asks, his face twisting in confusion.

"I'm bi," Yunho says, and _oh._ Mingi hadn't even known that about him. Then again, he never thought it was that important to know anyway. Yunho is Yunho. He keeps his eyes away from Mingi, however, as Yeosang and Hongjoong turn to him, awaiting an answer.

"Uh... I don't know?"

"You don't know?" Yeosang questions.

"I mean, I've been pretty straight, but it's not like I'm opposed to being with guys," Mingi answers with a shrug. He can see Hongjoong smiling almost proudly.

"So, bi-curious?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." As bi-curious or bisexual someone can be without having really put much thought into it (who also hasn't even experienced any form of romance in his life. Hell, he hasn't even kissed anyone yet).

Yeosang's face lights up with inebriated bliss. He sighs contently, allowing his body to fall back against the carpet. Mingi digs into his ice cream awkwardly, taking silent bites as Yeosang giggles at absolutely nothing. "Yeosang, do you want me to call Wooyoung? Or do you wanna stay the night?" Yunho asks.

"Oh, he's with Sannie right now," Yeosang says. "Don't know what time they'll be done with whatever they're doing. You really wouldn't mind me staying the night?"

"Of course not. You're definitely in no position to go home alone. Just make sure you don't puke on my floor."

"I'm not _that_ drunk, okay? Just giddy."

Mingi hopes for the sake of Yunho's floor and furniture that that really is the case.

Hongjoong is looking down at Yeosang with an amused smirk, shaking his head. "See, this guy is smart, and Yunho's so generous for letting him stay. If only everyone could be like that."

Mingi bites his tongue, shoveling another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth. "You really like ice cream, huh?" Yunho comments.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Mingi answers with a mouth full of the melting cookie-filled goodness. "It's probably my favorite food. I'd live off of it if I wouldn't get fat or diabetes."

"Imagine that, living off of ice cream without having to worry about health risks." Yunho chuckles, and _god_ , Mingi loves that sound. He's smiling, that ray of sunshine, and Mingi's eyelids flutter as he looks at it. Maybe the alcohol is starting to kick in now. He certainly feels that way.

He should look away, but he can't.

His brain is filled with both the haze from the alcohol, the euphoria from the ice cream, and the sun from Yunho's smile. Mingi doesn't _want_ to look away.

"Mingi-ssi, you're staring," Hongjoong whispers.

"Yeah, I know." Mingi's eyes widen, as do Hongjoong's, but Yunho pays no mind. After all, such a vague response could be towards his previous statement. Mingi quickly averts his eyes and lets out a small sigh of relief (which could also be interpreted as a happy sigh from eating the ice cream).

"You're whipped."

Even though it's coming from Hongjoong, it sounds a lot like San, and yeah, in Mingi's semi-drunken state, he can't find it in him to disagree with a statement that may have been true all along.

-

Yeosang eventually passes out on the floor, and Yunho and Mingi have to lift him up onto the sofa where he simply fidgets a bit before ultimately succumbing to sleep. Yunho drapes a blanket over him, sighing. "Well, I hope he had fun," he says with a chuckle. "What about you, Mingi? Do you want to stay or go home?"

_Stay. Stay stay stay. Talk to Hongjoong. Be with Yunho. You're so fucking whipped._

"Um, I don't want to be a burden on you or anything. I'm feeling okay, so I can probably just get an Uber home."

"You couldn't be a burden on me, ever," Yunho says. _Fuck._ "You're welcome to stay, but Yeosang's currently occupying the couch and there's only one bedroom, which is mine. I mean, you're welcome to sleep in my bed, if you don't mind someone of the same height sleeping next to you."

And _fuck_ , if that doesn't make Mingi's heart lurch. "Uh, um, I guess I don't have a problem with that, no."

"So you'll stay?"

Hongjoong has been gone for a while, but it's almost as if Mingi can hear his voice cheering for him from beyond. "Y-yeah, if that's okay."

"I thought I've made it clear plenty of times that it is indeed okay." Yunho chuckles, nudging his head in the direction of the bedroom.

It reminds Mingi a lot of his own, a small space with just enough room for _some_ decoration. A lot of Yunho's wall decorations include vintage records, posters of bands Mingi has never heard of before, and Polaroids. Yunho turns on the lamp on his desk, which illuminates a fraction of the room. "One sec, here." He hops onto the bed, flattening himself out and reaching under it, and suddenly, a string of lights lining the walls illuminates the room a soft blue and red.

"Whoa," Mingi says, "my room isn't nearly as cool as yours."

Yunho chuckles and gets up to turn the lamp off, leaving the room a blend of blue and red lights. "It's pretty boring living alone. Sometimes if you want excitement, you have to do things yourself."

Mingi glances around, the room somehow seeing bigger in the light. He travels the room slowly, his eyes eventually landing on the big board of photographs that basically takes up an entire wall. He stops at it, and unsurprisingly, there's a photo of Hongjoong.

Undeniably Hongjoong, with that ridiculous mullet of his, in a leather jacket with studded piercings and black nail polish, throwing up two peace signs on his eyes. Mingi can't help but smile at it, and he hears Yunho sigh from behind him. "Yeah, that's him. That's Hongjoong."

Right. Even though Yunho's told Mingi about Hongjoong, Yunho still didn't know that Mingi already knows what he looks like. "He was always making a statement. Wanted to stand out from the rest. What a guy."

Mingi looks at the rest of the photos, some of which are overlapping, but he can see whatever the photos are meant to portray. A lot of the photos are faces that Mingi doesn't recognize, but there are plenty of Hongjoong and Yunho himself. One even looks like a selfie taken by Yunho with whatever vintage camera he was using. He's smiling widely, bravely, with Hongjoong's chin resting on his shoulder.

It's the brightest smile Mingi's ever seen from him, and it exists only in a picture.

_"You're whipped."_

"There are a lot of times where I wonder why I keep the pictures of him," Yunho says. "I mean, they're just hanging there, like constant reminders that he's not here anymore. But at the same time... it's like they're all I have left of him, you know? I have memories of him, yeah, but those photos are physical ones, reminders and memories that he was here. That he was alive."

Mingi feels nothing. No chill of any sort.

"I feel like if I got rid of those photos, I'd never be able to forgive myself. It hurts to see them, but I'm sure it would hurt more if they were gone."

"It's important to remember," Mingi says. "To remember the dead."

"Yeah."

There's another photo, one of Yunho, who's smiling over a birthday cake with the numbers one and six stuck into it. There's no one else present in the photo, but he's still smiling. The younger self. And it's still like the brightest ray of sunshine.

"Yunho," Mingi says.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to let go of Hongjoong?"

There's a slight pause before Yunho answers with, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I know it's impossible to truly get over the death of a loved one. Hell, 'get over' could mean a million different things, since people experience grief so differently. But say, if Hongjoong were watching over you right now, unable to pass on because you can't let go, would you be willing to let go?"

Mingi knows he's treading dangerous territory with his question. There is still no chill. No shivers. Nothing.

"What do you mean by pass on? Like, his spirit won't leave or something?"

"Yeah. Hypothetically."

All Mingi can hear is the sound of Yunho's breathing and the pulsing of his own heart. "Well... yeah. I'd do anything for Hongjoong, dead or alive."

"What about for yourself? Would you be able to let go for your own sake?"

There's a longer pause, and it doesn't end. The temptation is so, so strong. To just _confess_ , tell Yunho everything he knows. That Hongjoong is still here, still watching him, still attached, and can't pass on because there's _something_ preventing him from doing so. Something that Mingi is trying so desperately to figure out so both Hongjoong and Yunho can be at peace.

So that Yunho may smile as brightly as he did in the photographs once more.

"As much as I'd want to... I don't know if I could."

And just then, there's a chill.

And something much more.

Something enters Mingi's chest, a sensation he's never experienced before. It's not painful, but it isn't pleasant either. It's knocking at his ribcage, almost like _actual_ knocking, begging to be let in. It's not warm nor cold, unlike the chill on his skin, but it doesn't seem threatening either.

Mingi opens the door.

"Yunho-yah," Mingi says.

_It's Hongjoong._

"You were always so selfless, weren't you? You wanted nothing more than for Hongjoong to succeed, for him to be happy, right?"

"Yeah," Yunho replies.

"You cared so much about others. You _still_ care. Right?"

"Yeah." Yunho says it in the exact same way, but Mingi can sense the slight difference.

It is _filled_ with grief.

"I understand it can be hard to live for oneself when all we want to see is the happiness of others. But you do realize... happiness looks good on you too. Your smile can light up a thousand rooms, Yunho. Losing Hongjoong hurt so much, I can understand that. And there's no set time for grief. There's no rule saying that you have to get over someone in this amount of time. You take all the time you need. But you also have to keep living, keep trying to be happy, because I promise you, people want to see you smile."

There's another long pause, and there's still a chill on Mingi's skin and a welcomed visitor in his body.

"Don't forget about him, but don't forget about yourself."

And another. Mingi's eyes land on the photo of Hongjoong, leather and mullet and all, and his chest feels warm.

"Live for yourself so you can live for others, Yunho. You can't have one or the other."

And with that, the chill disappears, as does the warmth in his chest.

After another longstanding pause, Yunho lets out a chuckle. "You sounded a lot like him just then. You really are similar to him."

 _Or maybe it was because that actually_ was _him._

Mingi finds himself continuing to gaze at that one photo of Hongjoong when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see Yunho dangerously close to him, to the point where he inhales so sharply he nearly stumbles. The hand on his shoulder slides to his back, and before he knows it, Yunho is pulling him into one of the warmest hugs Mingi has ever received.

It's warm. Just like his smile, just like his eyes. Just like _him._

"It's okay to feel pain. It's okay to feel it for a long time. Time doesn't heal all wounds," Mingi murmurs into Yunho's shoulder. He can feel Yunho's breathing hitch on his own. "But it will become bearable. It may not feel that way, but it will. And I promise you, I'll be there for you through it all."

_Hongjoong is right. Happiness does look good on you._

"Thank you, Mingi." Yunho's voice cracks as he inhales shakily, his embrace quivering. "You've been such an amazing friend. I know... I know we haven't known each other for _that_ long, but... thank you. Just thank you."

There's no chill, no shivers. No signs pointing to Hongjoong's presence. Not anymore.

Mingi is sure Hongjoong is still _somewhere_ , but here in this moment, in Yunho's bedroom with the blue and red lights, he is alone with Yunho, in his arms, and it is _so warm._

Just like the brightest ray of sunshine.

-

_I think there's something to be said about him._

_Happiness comes in all sorts of forms, whether it be a smile, a gesture, an action. There are so many possibilities, so many ways of showing happiness._

_Happiness is hard to achieve. In fact, I believe that most people can't achieve true happiness in their lifetime, but what does that matter? If we can feel the tiniest bouts of happiness throughout our lifetimes, wouldn't that be enough?_

_A life that is just comprised of happiness would be pretty boring, in my opinion. We need to experience the ups and downs, the happiness that comes from the pain. The happiness that comes once pain is relinquished._

_Time may not heal all wounds. Pain and suffering may never end, but it can be forgone. It can be waived. It can be sealed away, packed in an envelope with a signature and a message saying, "I am alive. I can feel pain, I can remember it, but I will go on because I must."_

_It is important to remember pain because we grow from it. We continue. We march on, just like time._

_I think there's something to be said about him._

_He's marching on. He's living despite the pain, smiling just like the brightest ray of sunshine. He's doing his best, getting by, working, studying, all while mourning the loss of his best friend. He's so incredibly strong. In many ways, I envy him._

_He has to remember. Remember everything. Remember his best friend for who he was, remember his pain, grief, and sorrow. Remember **himself**._

_I want to see him be happy, but as much as I want to be the one who makes him happy, makes him smile, I want him to be able to do it on his own._

_I want him to conquer the pain, seal the envelope, and continue._

_I know, I **know** , I am not the only one._

_There's a reason why he isn't passing on, one that resides not within them, but **between** them, a **shared** reason._

_Both of them want to move along. There's just something in the way._

_Yunho, Hongjoong, I **promise** I will do my best. I will do my best to help Yunho smile like he did. I will do my best to help Hongjoong be free like he once was._

_If **I** can't find the reason, may the reason **present itself**._

_Whatever the case, Yunho, Hongjoong, I will stand by your sides as_ _one who can speak to both the living and the dead._ _Putting my own meaningless troubles and worries to a grave, I will bridge the gap._

**remember pt 2**

**_-s.m._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a bit longer to make up for the fact that i never update any of my old fics :')
> 
> also dear god i barely update this story so my recollection of events/characters are so fuzzy and i'm SO LAZY TO GO BACK AND READ GOD WHY AM I SO TERRIBLE but yeah if there are any detail/plot holes... i apologize.  
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)!


	5. forgive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's just pretend it hasn't been 9 months :') here's some fluff to make up for that hahahahah

The smooth creaminess of homemade ice cream is a blessing to be treasured forevermore because now that Mingi has tried the homemade version of triple cookie blast, he never wants to go back. Sure, the air-packed pint of his favorite flavor has been and probably will continue to be a staple, but as long as he’s in the area, he will get it whenever he can. Jeong Yunho watches him with one of the proudest faces as the ice cream sinks into his taste buds and sends him to milky heaven.

Mingi has to contain multiple foodgasms and instead lets out barely audible whimpers every time he takes a bite. He could probably shed tears. That’s how much he loves it.

He’s too lost in ice cream heaven to remember that Yunho hadn’t even gotten any for himself, _and_ he paid for Mingi’s. What in the world did Mingi do to deserve someone like Yunho in his life?

He has to physically and mentally restrain himself from scarfing down the whole cup, wanting to savor the flavor instead of inhaling it, but goddamn, it’s hard.

All the while, Hongjoong is watching from the table behind them, but his appearances have become so casual that Mingi doesn’t pay all that much attention. Besides, in this particular instance, his favorite flavor of ice cream is distracting him from everything else around him. Well, minus Yunho. Because Yunho’s presence conquers everything else, and Mingi’s entire body is clenching from how much he’s just _trying_ in this moment. Trying not to have loud foodgasms, trying not to burst into tears, trying not to stare at Yunho because really, he could stare at Yunho all day.

The whole sleepover situation happened a little over two weeks ago, and while it didn’t really _go_ anywhere, Mingi came to the conclusion that maybe, _maybe_ , he’s whipped for Yunho. As San said it, so whipped that he’s basically coming out of the can.

It’s a whole new tingly feeling, one that isn’t brought on by spiritual energy lurking wherever he goes, but rather, the tittering of his heart whenever he thinks about Yunho and his cheeks and that gleaming smile because _god fucking damnit he’s so fucking whipped._ He doesn’t even know what spurred this on. Not too long ago, he’d been a recluse, secluded in his room because he didn’t want to deal with whatever juju was on the streets, and now, he has a tutoring job at the library next to the very guy he probably has a massive crush on.

He keeps telling himself ‘probably’ and ‘maybe’ because he has no fucking idea how to process these emotions or what they even _mean._ He feels like he should have experienced this sort of thing in high school, but then again, as a teenage medium who was even _more_ terrified of going outside, he really, really didn’t have any opportunity to.

All the while, whenever Hongjoong happens to be around, he just smirks in Mingi’s direction like he _knows_ , and Mingi does his best to ignore him.

San, who is alive, and Hongjoong, who is dead, have both told him that he’s whipped, and he’s becoming more and more inclined to believing it and solidifying his big fat ice cream-filled crush on Yunho.

But Yunho has still never been to his place and still doesn’t know that he can see and hear the dead and still doesn’t know that he’s been talking to his dead best friend for an upwards of a month, give or take.

Basically, Mingi is whipped, but he’s also kind of fucked.

-

“Just, like, put your shrine away and invite him over for Christ’s sake,” San says, a spoon hanging loosely from his grip as he eats away at his own pint of pistachio. “Your pining is driving me nuts.”

“Pining?” Mingi has never heard the word in his life.

“You’re, like… fuck, you’re thirsting over him, but in a non-sexual way. I mean, unless it _is_ in a sexual way, in which case, I don’t blame you because he _is_ really attractive—”

“You have a boyfriend!”

“So? Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the attractiveness of another man,” San argues with a roll of his eyes. “Look, if you want, you can just put all your spirit-y demon-summoning shit in my room and I’ll put up a sign that says ‘keep out’ on my door. That way, Yunho will have no idea about your whole ‘talking to the dead’ thing.”

Mingi lets out a deep breath, a frown appearing on his face for no reason because really, it’s a solid idea and San’s being generous.

So that’s what happens; San and Mingi spend a good fifteen minutes moving all of Mingi’s stones, incense, and herbs over to San’s room, which is actually slightly bigger than Mingi’s, so it all works out. “You should try burning some incense in here,” Mingi says. “It smells like sex and sweaty socks.”

“You’re a virgin, dude. How would you know what sex smells like?”

“You… have a point,” Mingi admits with a pout.

“But on that topic… do you need any condoms? Some lube? I have plenty of it, just tell me if you need it or not—”

“San,” Mingi says, firmly placing both of his hands on his roommate’s shoulders, “I am _not_ going to have sex with Yunho because he _doesn’t_ like me in that way.”

“But you like him in that way, don’t you?”

Mingi bites his lip in frustration because fucking hell, he’s managed to avoid discussing his love life (or lack thereof) with San for a good week, but now that he’s actually planning on inviting Yunho over, _of course_ San is going to get up to some shenanigans and gossip.

“I’m utilizing my right to remain silent,” Mingi mumbles, releasing San’s shoulders from his grasp and turning back in the direction of his room. The energy hasn’t changed much, but the room is so much _emptier_ without all of his “spirit-y demon-summoning shit” in it. It makes Mingi realize that maybe this whole clairvoyance thing really does take up a substantial chunk of his life.

A chunk that he wishes never existed in the first place, but alas, it does, and there really isn’t anything he can do about it.

He sighs, hoping that when Yunho does come over, Hongjoong won’t follow. It would be nice having _alone_ time with Yunho for once.

-

Mingi’s room still smells vaguely of incense when Yunho comes over. To Mingi’s absolute _dread_ , Yunho comments on the earthy aroma that is inadvertently stuck to his own clothes as a result, but surprisingly, it’s not one of disgust or discomfort. When Mingi opens the door, he’s hit with a whiff of savory takeout and Yunho is hit with a whiff of a concoction of so many different herbs and incenses that his olfactory senses probably short circuit for a few seconds.

“Whoa, that is… pungent.” Yunho’s eyes widen instantly. “Not in a bad way, though! Fuck, I mean… I just wasn’t expecting your apartment to smell like this.”

Fuck, the scent’s taking up the entire _apartment_? God fucking dammit, Mingi needs to invest in some Febreze or something.

“Oh my god, I need to learn to keep my mouth shut. I’m sorry. I totally understand if you want me to leave—”

“No!” Mingi protests, perhaps a bit harshly. _Come on, Mingi, you got this._ “Come on, man, you already brought the food and everything.”

Yunho smiles. _Nice save._

“Good point,” he says, finally stepping into the apartment. Hopefully, the takeout will overpower the herbs soon.

When they get around to eating and Yunho starts talking about work and his own writing and the students who can’t tell their lefts from their rights, Mingi does listen, he really does, but he’s also honed in on Yunho’s plump, round cheeks and how they puff out when they’re filled with food. His lips pout when he talks, certain consonants drowned out by the food filling his mouth, and there are some orange stains from the sauce dotting the corners, and his nose scrunches when he sniffles because it’s spicy, and _god fucking dammit Mingi you are so goddamn whipped._

At one point Mingi has to remind himself that there’s food in front of him and that he should be taking bites, not ogling at his friend as he talks and talks and talks about his passions and ambitions and—

“What do you think?”

Mingi blinks. “Huh?”

Yunho chuckles, swallowing whatever food is in his mouth. His plate is almost bare. “I asked what you think about San and Wooyoung.”

Oh.

Apparently Yunho had strayed away from talking about literature while Mingi was too busy admiring.

“Oh. Uh… I’m happy for them.”

“They seem to be really happy together,” Yunho says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more perfect couple.”

Mingi can already feel his cheeks heating up. Romance. Yunho is talking about romance. And Mingi is whipped. Romantically. Maybe. And he has absolutely no experience in the romance realm and has no idea how to carry a conversation like this.

“Yeah, definitely. Even if San doesn’t shut up about him, it just goes to show how he feels about him, you know?” Mingi says, satisfied with his response.

Yunho nods in agreement. “You know… they became a couple because of us, you know. Remember?”

Mingi chuckles. “Oh, right! How long has it been… a few months, right?”

“Right. Sometimes, meddling in people’s personal lives works.”

“I wouldn’t say that outside of here, you know.”

Yunho makes a scandalized face, pretending to lock his lips and throw away the key. Mingi can’t help the enormous smile that stretches on his face.

Luckily, the conversation about San and Wooyoung’s love life doesn’t last long, and Mingi finds himself immersed in other topics, learning more and more about Yunho and his interests, the things he likes, his favorites, and the more Yunho talks, the happier he seems. It’s been a little while since Yunho has brought up Hongjoong in a conversation, and even longer since Mingi has seen Hongjoong.

And in fact, for the rest of the night, Mingi doesn’t see Hongjoong or feel any sort of presence at all. Just Yunho.

Yunho and his beating heart and warm smile, alive and well.

-

Mingi is at Hyeseong’s shop when curiosity gets the best of them.

He’s caught up on all his assignments, leaving him with little to do. There haven’t been any papers for him to revise either, and he doesn’t feel like going home just yet. While Hyeseong remains sitting at her stool behind the counter, Mingi opens up his laptop and searches Hongjoong’s name.

The first thing that pops up is an article.

_Kim Hongjoong, 22, was killed in an unfortunate accident involving a drunk driver and pronounced dead upon paramedics’ arrival. The driver, Park Jinsung, 28, was also pronounced dead on the scene, and his brother, Park Seonghwa, 22, who was in the passenger’s seat, received urgent treatment at a nearby hospital._

The driver’s name and his brother’s name are both unfamiliar to Mingi. Perhaps he’s snooping a little too much, because the next thing he does is open up another tab and search ‘Park Seonghwa.’

The same article comes up, along with various social media profiles belonging to people of the same name. However, Mingi comes across a Facebook account that seemingly belongs to the Park Seonghwa in question.

His last post was three days ago, a photo of him and his older brother, and a long caption that follows it.

_Jinsung, it’s been seven months since your death. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. I wish things would’ve turned out differently, that I took the wheel instead of you, or that you didn’t make the careless mistake of drinking and driving. Nevertheless, you were my brother, you ARE my brother, and I love you and miss you. I hope you’re resting peacefully._

And three days before that:

_Sometimes I wish I could talk to him again._

Mingi swallows and whips out his phone, typing Seonghwa’s name into the Instagram search bar. It’s the only form of social media he has because San decided to make a profile for him against his will, saying that he’ll just follow a bunch of food accounts, and instead follows a bunch of random celebrities and San’s spam account because “I need more followers on there to tell me how good my abs look.”

The posts on Seonghwa’s Instagram are similar to those on his Facebook profile. However, there is one post, a black square, with the caption, _I just wish that those who were close to Hongjoong know that I never condoned my brother’s mistake. And I wish I could speak to Hongjoong and tell him that._ It has the least likes out of all of Seonghwa’s posts.

Now, Mingi has no idea how serious Seonghwa was being when he shared these thoughts with the internet, but it has his interest piqued.

He stands up, his phone still on Seonghwa’s Instagram profile as he wanders the store in search of a book that gives instructions on how to conduct a seance.

-

Because Mingi has no idea who Park Jinsung and Park Seonghwa are, and since this is his first time attempting anything like this, Mingi decides to stick with summoning the spirit he is most familiar with: Hongjoong.

He can’t recall the last time he saw Hongjoong. He’s sure Hongjoong is still out there somewhere, still following Yunho around, and this will be Mingi’s first time trying to summon Hongjoong outside of Yunho’s presence.

He already has all the recommended materials for the seance—candles, incense, even a photo of Hongjoong from the article that Mingi had printed out at the library.

 _“The most important thing is that you hone in on your psychic senses,”_ Hyeseong had told him. _“I know you said that you are not too fond of your gift, but if you are going to conduct a seance, your powers are the most important thing. You must embrace them.”_

Thankfully, San is out, leaving Mingi alone to his senses. He’s in his room, his “shrine” now back in place and arranged neatly. He sits cross-legged in the center, incense burning on his nightstand, candles arranged in a half circle in front of him, and he holds Hongjoong’s photo to his chest.

He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath.

Breathes in the dark. Breathes in the bittersweet scent of his incense, feeling the warmth from the candles burning around him. Focuses on the air entering and leaving his lungs, the way they inflate and deflate in his ribcage. He remembers how Hongjoong had welcomed himself in before, like he’d knocked on some kind of metaphysical door inside Mingi and _spoke_ through him. A vessel. A vessel that connects the human and spirit realm.

_That’s what I am._

He winces, feeling something chilly nip at his ears.

“Hongjoong,” Mingi whispers. “Are you here? Can you hear me?”

“I hear you loud and clear, Mingi-ssi.”

Mingi’s eyes open slowly, and there Hongjoong is, kneeling in front of the half circle of candles. Totally unexpected. Mingi has to steady himself from falling back on his ass from how shocked he is.

“Holy shit, I did it,” he says.

“Yeah, you did. Was practically sucked out of that weird space and sent here.” Hongjoong chuckles and glances around. “So this is your place, huh?”

“Y-yeah. Uh… sorry for calling you here all of a sudden.”

“That’s fine. It’s a nice change of scenery. So… what’s up? Why’d you summon me?”

“Oh.” Mingi fumbles around in his pocket and takes out his phone, unlocking it to show Seonghwa’s profile. “Forgive me for being nosy, but I did a little snooping around. I searched up your name and read about the accident, and I found the brother of the driver. He’s alive and well.”

Hongjoong leans forward and squints at the screen. “Ah, yes. That would be the driver’s brother. Seonghwa, huh?”

Mingi swipes to the next screenshot. “He wants you to know that he never condoned his brother’s actions. And that… the people close to you knew that too.”

Hongjoong sighs and leans back again, lips pressed together in a thin line. “To think… he’s still heavily grieving too. And not just for his brother. For the living as well.”

“He must feel like he bears the weight of his brother’s mistake, since he was the one to survive the crash.”

Hongjoong nods. “I feel for him, truly. It may be difficult to believe, but I really don’t hold any resentment towards his brother. I’m just not that kind of person. Yes, it was an extremely careless, dangerous mistake and it cost him two lives. But I know that if I hold onto that anger, I will never be able to let go, dead or alive.”

“Yunho says he doesn’t hold any resentment either.”

“I can’t tell you how honest he’s being,” Hongjoong says. “Yunho is an extremely down to earth person. His sympathy and regard for others is extraordinary. But grief and anger can cloud that, I’m sure you know, especially when such a significant mistake took the life of his best friend.”

“Not a mistake, in my opinion. It was a stupid, careless decision.” Mingi sighs and lowers his phone. “Hell, look at me. I can feel _myself_ getting angry. I can’t imagine how angry Yunho feels.”

“You need to accept to be able to let things go and move on,” Hongjoong says. “I think that’s what Yunho is struggling with. Not necessarily accepting the fact that I’m gone, but accepting what happened for what happened, rolling through the emotional turmoil that comes with it… and being able to forgive.”

“Forgive?”

Hongjoong’s eyes fall to the picture of himself clutched to Mingi’s chest. “He knows that nothing can bring me back. He knows that no matter how down he gets on himself, he can never take my place. But what he struggles with is his anger, I think. He may not hate Seonghwa or his brother, but he hates what Seonghwa’s brother _did._ He hates that I was killed by a reckless decision. And while I think he’s right in feeling that way, it’s an all-encompassing, consuming thing. He needs to forgive.”

“Forgive Jinsung?”

Hongjoong shrugs. “He just needs to… forgive.”

Mingi stares blankly, waiting for Hongjoong to give an elaboration, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he says, “You know, Mingi… I haven’t seen you for a while.”

“Y-yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”

“And you’re with Yunho a lot.”

“Well, k-kinda, yeah. We see each other relatively often.”

Hongjoong smiles, holding a finger above one of the candle’s flames. It flickers. “Don’t you think that says something?”

Mingi frowns instantly out of confusion. “What do you mean?”

Hongjoong just laughs as multiple of the candles flicker, matching the cadences of his voice. “Oh, nothing. But hey, I gotta commend you and your psychic powers. You really managed to yank me out of that space. I’ve been there for a while.”

“Oh, uh… you’re welcome?”

“I think you’re more powerful than you think,” Hongjoong says. “It’s just a matter of harnessing your power… and accepting it. You can do amazing things if you allow yourself to, Mingi-ssi.”

And just like that, the candles snuff themselves out, leaving Mingi in the dark to a mixture of scents. When he switches his bedroom light back on, Hongjoong is gone.

“Amazing things, huh?” Mingi mumbles to himself, glancing down at the scene in front of him.

Extinguished candles, incense smoke, Hongjoong’s photo…

Reality hits him like a freight train. _He just summoned a spirit without knowing what the hell he was actually doing._

“Holy shit.”

He whips out his phone.

**[Mingi]**

_hey san i’m sure ur all busy with wooyoung and everything but i may or may not have just summoned hongjoong’s spirit in my room_

_dw he’s gone but like i DID THAT I SUMMONED A FUCKING SPIRIT_

_S U M M O N E D, NOT JUST CONTACTED!!!_

**[San]**

_wow_

_that’s actually pretty dope_

_sounds like ur embracing ur spooky powers a lil bit more now eh?_

Mingi can’t help but smile to himself.

-

“There’s something different about you, dear,” comes Hyeseong’s sweet, trembling voice from behind the counter. Mingi pokes his head out from the back room, giving her a confused head tilt. “I saw you looking at some books for seances.”

“Oh, yeah! I was, ah, trying to see if I could summon Hongjoong’s spirit from my room, and I did it!”

Hyeseong’s saggy face stretches into a smile. “Oh, that’s wonderful, dear.”

“Hongjoong said that it’s a matter of harnessing and accepting my power. And… I think he was right.”

“Do you think that you’re getting closer to achieving that?” Hyeseong asks, to which Mingi shrugs. “I believe he is right, Mingi dear. If you don’t harness your power, it only stands to reason that it would be out of control. It’s why you feared leaving the comfort of your home. You could not keep the spirits at bay because you didn’t have a handle on your power. And in order to get a handle on your power, you must come to terms with it.”

Mingi glances down and lets the words sink in. He wonders, _when had he started accepting his power_? He can’t quite seem to pinpoint when.

“That is what I sense about you, Mingi. You seem… stronger. More content, less worried. Do you feel the same?”

Mingi thinks back to the moment Hongjoong had appeared in his bedroom after so long of not seeing him and says, “Yeah, I think I do.”

-

_I believe that the order in which the five stages of grief allegedly occur is inaccurate._

_When grief strikes you all at once, so do all the emotions. So does the crushing reality—that something or someone you loved is now gone. And that is not something a psychological, man-made model could ever define._

_One may always deny, be angry, bargain, and be depressed, all at once. There are no “stages.” And those stages do not apply to everyone. People handle grief differently._

_I was told that he is angry. I wonder what exactly he is angry about, who he is angry at, if anybody. A large part of me is afraid to ask, because what if he isn’t ready? What if he isn’t ready to come to terms with the thing that holds him back?_

_…_

_I do not grieve over my power to see the dead. I have always loathed it, but never grieved about it. But in a way, I understand._

_I was told he needs to forgive. I still do not know what or who he needs to forgive._

_But I can imagine that letting go of the thing that holds you back from achieving your happiness, is the greatest freedom of all. And if forgiveness is what it takes for that to occur… then I sincerely hope he breaks the shackles around his broken heart and allows it to heal._

_And then, maybe, the pain will become bearable._

**forgive pt 1**

**_-s.m._ **

-

No matter how hard Mingi tries, he cannot summon Jinsung’s spirit, nor can he even contact it. It’s not that he doubts his ability to or anything like that; maybe he just doesn’t have the resources.

So instead, he visits the gravesite, an hour away.

Cemeteries are feeding grounds for spirits, basically. Mingi had always held his breath while driving past them because being _near_ them made the voices get louder, cacophonous and screeching in his head. He’d covered his ears as a child and squeezed his eyes shut. Even as the car got further and further away, the voices would linger, sending violent shudders down Mingi’s spine.

Even now, he can still feel the weight of the dead tugging at his clothes as he traverses the landscape, dead grass and leaves fluttering in the near-winter breeze. He shoves his hands far down his coat pockets, eyes roving over the stones embedded into the ground.

Not everyone has the privilege of having a gravestone.

“Do you have one too?” Mingi asks a non-present Hongjoong.

He’s sure to read every single name, and not one belongs to a Kim Hongjoong, though he finds Park Jinsung’s at the very right side, a bundle of dead flowers placed at the base of the stone.

_In loving memory._

Mingi kneels down, eyes racing across the same words over and over. _In loving memory._ People loved, _love_ , Jinsung, just like people love Hongjoong. And Seonghwa must bear the heaviest weight of living with his brother’s foolish action, and the worst memory of being the last person to see him alive.

_In loving memory._

“Excuse me.”

Dazed, Mingi turns his head.

There, Park Seonghwa stands in a black felt peacoat, brows furrowed.

“Oh, err… sorry.”

“Who are you?” Seonghwa asks curiously.

“Ah, um, I’m… I’m Mingi. S-Song Mingi. I go to a university about an hour away, and—”

“What are you doing at my brother’s grave?” Seonghwa asks, growing impatient.

Mingi grimaces. “I…” He sighs. “I have a friend. And he was best friends with Kim Hongjoong.”

Seonghwa’s mouth falls open, shoulders rising in a gasp. “Oh…”

“Yeah.”

They stand there in a heavy silence. The wind howls, tussling their hair and stirring up a whirlpool of colorful leaves.

“I, um, looked up the accident. Just… wanted to know more about it,” Mingi says.

“I see. I’m sure you must know the details.”

“W-well, as much as the article and my friend told me.”

Seonghwa sighs and steps forward, standing next to Mingi. “My brother made a really stupid decision. And because of that, two people, including him, died. But… I could’ve driven, too. I could’ve stepped up and taken the wheel. He told me he was fine enough to drive, and I… I should’ve stopped him. It should’ve—”

He stops abruptly. Mingi’s chest twists.

 _“It should have been me,”_ Yunho had once said.

“It should’ve been you?” Mingi finishes for him.

Seonghwa’s eyes fall shut, face compressing into one of sheer pain as he nods.

Mingi sighs. “You know, my friend said that too, and he wasn’t even _there._ There are always going to be things we could’ve done differently. But if we’re always stuck on the should’ve, would’ve, could’ve’s of the world, we’d never go anywhere.”

“He probably hates me,” Seonghwa murmurs.

“He doesn’t,” Mingi assures instantly. “He doesn’t hate you, and neither does Hongjoong.”

Seonghwa turns to him and raises a brow. “What?”

Mingi shrugs and chuckles. “I’ve spoken to him. I’m a medium.”

“No,” Seonghwa says. “No, you’re not.”

Mingi’s smile remains planted on his face as he feels a strange warmth pool in his chest, his body light as if the spirits have decided to release their clutch on him.

“I am. Whether you believe in that stuff or not, that’s fine, you do you. But I’ve spoken to Hongjoong. I know what kind of person he is. And he’s not mad.”

Seonghwa stares at him with an unreadable expression, and oddly enough, Mingi can’t bring himself to care whether or not Seonghwa thinks he’s crazy for even claiming such a thing. Normally, he would be mortified.

But something is different now. Mingi can’t quite put his finger on it.

“You… could you contact my brother, then? M-maybe?”

“You believe in that stuff?” Mingi asks, bewildered.

“I mean, I don’t know. But if there’s any chance, I just… I want to know. I want to know what he has to say. I’m sorry it’s so forward and weird, but… could you try?”

Mingi glances down at the sad-looking flowers on Jinsung’s grave.

“I could try,” he says. He figures he’ll leave the part about him already having tried to.

“Great! Uh… s-sorry. I don’t really know how psychic stuff works. Do you need stuff? Like, candles? A ouija board?”

“Oh, _hell_ no,” Mingi says. “We don’t fuck with ouija boards. I don’t have anything on me that I’d normally use, and I don’t want you to go out of your way to get materials so… I guess we could just try it out and see what happens.”

Seonghwa nods fervently. “Okay, okay. Um, my place is just a few minutes away, if that works?”

“Yeah, that works. Do you have anything that belongs to him?”

Seonghwa glances down at the chain around his neck, leading up to a pendant of a dagger that he takes in his hand. Mingi nods.

It feels so surreal, following a complete stranger to his car with the intention of trying to contact his dead brother, the one who’d killed Hongjoong in the crash. And how he was so _open_ about his ability. Park Seonghwa, stranger, knows about his ability, one that _Yunho_ doesn’t even know about yet.

He leans his head against the passenger’s side window. There are no shudders down his spine, but there is certainly a pang of guilt ringing deep in his bones.

-

Seonghwa’s place is a modest apartment not unlike Mingi’s or Yunho’s. On the way, Mingi learns that Seonghwa is on leave from university, still caught up in the chaos of emotions from his brother’s death. It had taken him two months to fully recover from the accident; he’d needed two surgeries and had several fractures, but he was alive in the end.

Seonghwa may not have any incense, but he does have a few candles. Mingi lights all of them for good measure, setting them down on the coffee table in Seonghwa’s living room. Seonghwa shuts off all the lights for him and draws the curtain’s shut, leaving them in the dim lighting of filtered sunlight and candlelit flames.

“Okay, so, I should warn you that I’m not a very _skilled_ medium. I may not be able to reach your brother at all,” Mingi says.

“Th-that’s okay,” Seonghwa says shakily, kneeling across from him. “It doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

“Right. May I?” Mingi gestures to Seonghwa’s neck.

Seonghwa nods, slipping the necklace off and placing it on the table. “So what I need from you is your energy,” Mingi says. “Just take deep breaths and focus. Think about your brother. Think about how you feel about him, and I’ll let you know if I sense anything, okay?”

“Okay.” Seonghwa inhales deeply, allowing his eyes to slip shut.

Mingi places his palms flat on the table, eyes locked on the necklace. He, too, takes a deep breath, feeling the air enter his lungs, then escape. The hair on his skin bristles on his third breath in, his left eye twitching beneath its lid.

And then, a knock.

“Jinsung? Are you there?” Mingi asks, lifting his gaze. Seonghwa’s eyes open instantly, head turning as he glances around.

There’s a familiar chill that pinches his ear. “My name is Mingi. I’m here with your brother, Seonghwa. Please speak if you can.”

_“Mingi…”_

“Ah,” Mingi says. “He’s here.”

“What?” Seonghwa’s eyes flit about the room. “He is? He really is?”

Mingi hears a laugh. _“There he goes, always so hyper. Ah, you silly kid.”_

“He called you a silly kid.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen. “No… no way. He called me that all the time. He’s… really here?”

“Yeah,” Mingi says. “What is it you want to tell him?”

Seonghwa pauses, swallowing. “I… hyung, if you’re really there… please know that I miss you. I love you. I think about you all the time, and I’m sorry that I let this happen. If only I would’ve—”

_“You couldn’t have stopped it, kid.”_

“—said no and taken the wheel instead, none of this would’ve happened. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Seonghwa sniffles, his eyes flooding with tears that spill over just as soon as they appear.

Seonghwa is met with silence. But Mingi is met with, _“Nothing could’ve stopped it. It’s done. There’s no would’ve, should’ve, could’ve, kid. I know you miss me, I know you love me. And I love you too, kid, it pains me to see you still hurting over such a stupid decision that_ I _made. I’m the one to blame, not you. I’ve accepted it. I’ve moved along. And I believe you can too. You’re strong, kid, always have been.”_

“He says you’re strong,” Mingi says. “He misses and loves you too. But he said that it hurts seeing you hurt over a decision that _he_ made. One that can’t be undone. He’s accepted his fault and blame and moved on. And he says you can too.”

“Oh, god…” Seonghwa cries into his palms. “Hyung, please… I’m trying. I really am. I just… I just wish things weren’t this way. I miss you so fucking much.”

_“You have to live, kid. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t let another life hold you back.”_

Mingi repeats those exact words.

_“I lived my life, Hwa. It’s time to live yours. Do everything I won’t have the chance to do. I’ll be with you every step of the way. And hey, proud of you for finally learning how to do laundry on your own.”_

Mingi and Seonghwa both laugh at that last part, a chorus of laughter, alive and dead, filling up Mingi’s eardrums.

_“And kid… please. Forgive me one of these days. I know you’re angry at me. Trust me, I am too. But nothing can change what happened. The only thing to do is move forward.”_

“To forgive, but not forget,” Mingi adds on with a thoughtful nod.

Seonghwa sniffles again, but this time, he manages to crack a smile.

“You’ll really be there, watching me?” he asks in a small voice.

_“Of course, kid. Have been since the moment my soul left the earth.”_

Seonghwa lets out a choked sob. “I love you, hyung. I miss you.”

_“I love you too, kid. I’ll always be with you.”_

And with that, the chill on the tips of Mingi’s ear disintegrates, and the candle snuffs itself out as Jinsung exits.

Seonghwa runs his hands down his face, smudging his tears. “God, I… you really… you really spoke with him. It was really him.”

“I’m a bit surprised myself, if I’m being honest,” Mingi remarks lightheartedly.

“That’s an amazing gift, Mingi,” Seonghwa says, nodding to affirm. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

The words are unfamiliar in Mingi’s mouth. Unfamiliar, but welcome all the same.

Because since when has it been Mingi’s pleasure to contact the dead? He can’t remember a single time he’s been happy to.

But deep within him, instead of the self-esteem-crushing grip his ability has had on his heart, he feels light, _alive_ , like he was always meant to be.

-

Mingi can’t remember the last time he actually went out during the holiday season. And instead of grabbing a cup of hot chocolate like any normal person would during the winter months, he and Yunho take a trip down to his beloved ice cream shop for a brain-freezing cup of creamy goodness. Mingi’s surprised it’s still open for winter, but in no way is he complaining.

It’s pretty much abandoned, with people going away for vacation and, well, the fact that it’s winter. But nothing hits the spot quite like Mingi’s favorite flavor of ice cream, at any point in the year.

They grab a table for themselves and gaze upon the paper snowflakes and tinsel dangling from the ceiling, adding a cute yet cheap Christmassy charm to such a lonely place. As lonely as it seems, however, with Yunho sitting across from him, he is far from lonely.

“Hey, Mingi,” Yunho says, words garbled around a bite of strawberry ice cream.

“Yeah?”

“I’m thinking of getting my ears pierced.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Yunho smiles and glances down, almost appearing shy. “I was looking at old photos of Hongjoong and… they just look really cool.”

Mingi joins him in his smile. “I think it would look really good. I say go for it.”

Yunho nods and spoons another bite of ice cream in his mouth. “Hey, Mingi.”

“Mm?” Mingi blinks, hot pink spoon caught between his lips and a bite of triple cookie blast sitting on his tongue, melting.

Yunho blinks back. “Ah, nothing.”

“What?” Mingi swallows the cold cream all at once, wincing just slightly. “Hey, come on! You can’t just say ‘hey Mingi’ and not tell me what you were gonna say after!”

Yunho chuckles. “Fair point.”

“So what were you gonna say?”

“Just… let’s go for a walk after this, yeah? Do a lap around campus, and maybe we could hang out at my place after?”

Mingi shrugs. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Okay, cool.”

An oddly awkward silence washes over them. Mingi eyes him warily.

_What are you hiding from me, Yunho?_

-

Thankfully, the silence returns comfortably, the kind of silence that Mingi doesn’t mind because he knows that there’s a lot to talk about, that he can say whatever is on his mind and Yunho can strike up a full-length conversation about it. And, as an added bonus, it really is _silent_ , not a single spirit to be heard. Not an ounce of negative energy to be felt.

“So… what are you doing for Christmas?” Yunho asks.

“Ah, I think I’ll just go down to see my parents and come straight back here. What about you?”

“Same. It’s weird, I… don’t really like spending time at home. Well, maybe it’s not so weird when I think about it.”

Mingi nods. He glances around; the campus walkways are barren, most students having returned to their homes for the entirety of vacation. Snow has been swept up onto the grass, leaving white filling in the cracks of the bricks. Lights have been haphazardly strung up between tree branches, though the comfort of their starlike wonder still gives the campus that sort of holiday vibe.

Mingi has never truly given himself the chance to see what sights winter holds. He’s always stayed indoors where it’s warm and safe. He simply watched the views from his window instead of going out and seeing them unfurl before his own two eyes, a recluse of his own accord. And now, he’s finally seeing it for himself.

It’s beautiful.

“Hey, Mingi.”

“You’re not gonna say it’s nothing again, are you?” Mingi teases.

“No, I swear.” Yunho laughs and glances up at a tree, devoid of leaves but full of lights. “I just… I feel like I say this a lot, but thank you.”

“For what?” Mingi stops and turns to him.

“For being there for me. It’s like you always know what to say when I’m down. You know what to say even when I’m not down. You’re easy to talk to, you’re funny, smart… just… you’re amazing, Mingi. Really.”

Yunho is looking at him and Mingi swears he can see stars swimming in those brown irises, coalescing into a beauty that Mingi has never seen so up close.

“I feel… lighter, when I’m with you,” Yunho goes on, and Mingi’s heart swells. It sings, ringing beautifully in his ears. Just like Yunho’s voice. “Life feels easier. Everything does. Ah, fuck, I sound pretty sappy.”

“Perks of being a poet,” Mingi jests.

“Absolutely.” Yunho grins and ducks his head down, though not for long.

It’s then, under a starlit tree, that Yunho kisses Mingi for the first time.

Mingi is absolutely blindsided, not expecting a pair of lips to land on his for the first time ever, belonging to _Yunho_ of all people. Yunho is _kissing him._ Yunho _kissed him first._ Mingi’s head is spinning, trying to keep up with the movements of Yunho’s lips. Yunho has a featherlight grip on Mingi’s arms, and Mingi goes rigid in his hold.

Yunho pulls away, eyes uncertain. “Sorry,” Mingi apologizes immediately.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I… that was my first…”

Yunho chuckles, his hand falling into Mingi’s and lacing their fingers together. “I’m sorry if it was bad…” Mingi mumbles.

“It’s okay, really.” Yunho gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, face still mere centimeters away. “And, well, I guess that’s another thing about you.”

“What about me? That I’m a bad kisser?”

“N-no! Absolutely not that! S-sorry, I think I just let my train of thought get the best of me.” Yunho turns away to laugh, embarrassed. “I was just thinking, like… I don’t know. You just seem like you’re coming out of your shell, I guess. You carry yourself a lot differently.”

“You know, I was told that the other day by someone,” Mingi says. “And I see it now. I really do.”

“Yeah?”

“And since we’re being sappy, I guess you could say it’s because of you.”

“Me, huh?”

Mingi nods confidently, squeezing Yunho’s hand. “You just have this natural ability to bring out the best in people. Hongjoong would agree with that, too.”

And instead of recoiling at the mention of Hongjoong’s name, Yunho smiles that very same magnetic smile that lured Mingi in in the first place. He further closes the gap between them, toe to toe, hand in hand.

“Do you see it?” Mingi asks.

Yunho closes his eyes and exhales.

“There’s no way for me to tell if it’s _me_ who brings out the best in people.” He opens his eyes. “But I guess it’s in my best interest to believe you.”

“Well, you do,” Mingi says. “I was always afraid before I met you. But seeing you, hanging out with you… you gave me a reason to leave my room. And now, it’s like I never had that problem in the first place.”

And Mingi certainly never thought he would be so close to somebody, not like this, and definitely not with someone as amazing as Jeong Yunho.

“I hope I’m not the only reason you leave your room,” Yunho says half-jokingly.

“No, I swear,” Mingi assures. “You were just a starting point on my ongoing journey to stop being a goddamn stick-in-the-mud hermit.”

Yunho bursts out laughing, his breath tickling Mingi’s face, smelling of sugar. “Well, I’m glad. The world needs to see more of you, Song Mingi.”

“Et tu, Jeong Yunho.”

Mingi is the one to lean in this time, closing the last gap between them. Yunho’s lips are warm despite the cold, and Mingi supposes that rings true for the rest of him.

-

_Perhaps the road to moving along is internal._

_Perhaps the road to acceptance is carried out in secrecy._

_Perhaps nobody truly knows the moment they learn to let go._

_Perhaps it just happens. Without warning. Without knowing._

_And perhaps, that is perfectly okay._

_To forgive, and not forget, and live through winter and summer days as if they are equal._

_Because the sun will continue to shine no matter the season._

_It is just a matter of opening the curtains and letting it in._

**forgive pt 2**

**_-s.m._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise i will finish this fic someday. HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!  
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)!


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